


The Battered Devil Dog

by arahadi



Category: Band of Brothers, Generation Kill
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-19 16:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3616926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arahadi/pseuds/arahadi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray + George + Frank = The Three Stooges of Easy. </p><p>Ray will learn a lot from Easy Company when he accidentally thrown back in time and meet the greatest generation America ever had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Devil Dog in Baggy Pants](https://archiveofourown.org/works/482598) by [buffyaddict13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/buffyaddict13/pseuds/buffyaddict13). 



> This is my first try in writing fanfiction. Since English is not my native language, I really appreciate if you can give review related to grammar, etc. Thank you.

Ray Person is not happy. They finally entering Baghdad, but he can’t convince himself that they liberated Iraq or just make the country more fucked up. Too much civilian has been killed by constantly-changing ROE, stupid command by equally stupid C.O (a.k.a Encino Man and/or Captain America) and trigger-happy marines (Ray hates those Delta Company reservists). He still cannot sing his favorite country music within Brad’s hearing range. And since Ray is Brad’s RTO, he always in Brad’s hearing range. It sucks.

Speaking of Brad the Iceman, he is trying to be hero again by defusing an unexploded artillery shell in the middle of a courtyard. Poke is not happy with this. But one frosty command from the celebrated Iceman makes him fetch the detonation kit.

“Brad, do you think this is a good idea? You don’t like kids. So why do you care for kids playing in this garden anyway. You’re the Iceman. Iceman doesn’t have a heart.” Ray said while he’s watching Brad examining the shell.

Brad’s not responding. So, ever compliant to the procedure of their friendship, Ray keep talking “You remember those old movies where they like hit the bomb once like before it's gonna to go off...”. At that time, Poke arrives with the det-kit and gives it to Brad.

Ray continues “...and the main guy has like to cut either the red wire or the black wire and he's sweating his balls off? And it's getting really intense. This is kinda like that. Who thought we'd be doing this shit...”

Brad sighs and muttered his famous line “Shut up, Ray.”

Minutes later, they hide behind a wall. Brad looks at his watch and said “It’s time, gents.” They duck down and put their fingers in their ears. Then…BOOM…the shell detonated. Dirts and rocks everywhere. With his head still down, Ray starts to stand up to walk to the Humvee when suddenly a heavy rock falls right into his neck that not covered by his Kevlar helmet. Last thing he heard was Brad’s voice, shouting something.

* * *

 

Ray feels the wind and he feels like he’s hanging. When he opens his eyes, he sees a vast meadow that filled with paratroopers. Wait…meadow? Paratroopers? He checks his surroundings. He is hanging in an old-fashioned jumping harness, stuck in one of the tree that surrounding the meadow. He’s only hanging a few meters above the ground. He also wears a green uniform, olive to be exact. This is an army uniform, he thinks. He muttered “What the fu-?”

His word was cut when someone with the same uniform and harness yelled at him from below the tree. The man wears white band with large Red Cross in it. “You okay there, Person? I saw harsh wind blow your ‘shute to the trees and saw you stuck and go limp. You passed out? You feelin’ dizzy or sumtin’?”

Ray’s confused face must be answers all this dark-haired man question. So he continues, “Stay still. I’ll climb up there. Don’t move. You might be broke sumtin’”

At that time, two man come to Ray’s direction. The man with black hair and squared jaw yelled to Ray “Jesus, Person. You have the most rotten luck. Of all Easy, you’re the only one that got blown and stuck in the tree.“ Another man, shorter and with mischievous eyes, yelled “Be careful cut him down, Doc. Perco and I need our partner in crime.”

The man called Doc only nods and starts to cut the rope of Ray’s parachute. Doc than said to the other guys, “Guarnere, Luz, prepare to catch him. Be careful, Person looks disoriented. He might have a concussion or broken bones.” The shorter man that revealed to be named Luz piped “He always looked like that, Doc.”

Ray stay still and silent, which in normal situation is a miracle. Brad will be proud. But this situation is not making any sense. Where is he? What is Easy? Ray is sure he heard about it somewhere. Why these men know Ray, calling him by his last name? Where is Brad? Walt? Reporter? Ray even wants to see Trombley, The Psycho kid.

10 minutes and a lot of muttered curses later from the Doc, Luz & Guarnere, Ray finally lay down on the ground. Doc checks on a nasty bruise in Ray’s forehead and big lump on the top of his head, asking a question or two to Ray. He concludes that Ray might have a minor concussion. At that time, several men had surrounded him. One tall man with red hair crouched down and talk to Ray. He had a Lieutenant insignia. When he talk, he talk with a fatherly voice “You’ll be fine, Person. The ambulance already here to take you to the base.” Ray only nods slightly. And as if Ray’s luck cannot be more rotten, he hears a crack above him, and seconds later a heavy branch decided to break and falls right into his head. The last thing in his mind before passed out again, is that he wishes this double smack on his head doesn’t lower his magnificent IQ.

* * *

 

Ray hears voices. They sound muffled at first, but gradually, they become clearer.

“Is he OK, Eugene? It’s been three hours. I don’t want to lose a Sergeant in this stage of training for the invasion. He’s a good soldier.” It’s the red-head-LT’s voice.

“Besides the concussion, I think he’s fine, Lieutenant Winters. He will be awake anytime soon”. Okay...so the LT’s name is Winters. Ray also remembers the second voice. It’s Doc’s voice and Doc’s name is Eugene. He has a calming voice like Doc Bryan, but with funny accent. Maybe calming voice is on the top list of “100 requirements for being a Medic or Corpsman”. Ray will never be a Medic then.

But...wait...Ray’s a Sergeant? Who the hell in the right mind will make Ray a Sergeant? He doesn’t have those leader qualities, unlike Brad Colbert the Iceman or Lt. Nate Fick. He only has the “annoying corporal but the best damn RTO in the business” quality. And he proud of it.

The LT talks again “Well, I just hope he will be fit for our next field training. I have to alter some paper work so Lt. Sobel don’t kick him from Easy because of this accident. I think the Lieutenant still having a personal grudge since Person throw up spaghetti on him back in Currahee. He thinks Person did that in purpose”.

Both men laugh a little. Well...Ray already has a reputation, apparently. Okay, now it’s time to do some Recon. Slowly Ray opens his eyes. He is in a hospital barrack that look like in an old war movie. This is not right. He also heard oldies song from a radio. Not 60s or 70s oldies, but grandpa oldies. Then, suddenly, Ray remembers something. His late Grandpa was a World War Two vets. He was a paratrooper that jumps in D-Day. He lifts his dog tag. It say’s: Ray A. Person. Shit!! That’s Ray’s Grandpa name whom he’s named after. He died when Ray was ten years old. What the hell happened?? Ray lifts his head a little. He sees the Screaming Eagle patch in his arm. Just like in his Grandpa memorabilia. Easy. That was his Grandpa’s Company. He remember Grandpa told this when Ray’s still a kid. So…is he becoming his Grandpa? He is surely fucked.

Doc realizes Ray has awake. “You OK, Person?”. Well, that must be a default question for every Medic & Corpsman.

Ray answers groggily “umm...depends. What year is it?”

The LT looks genuinely concerned, Ray starts to feels guilty (which is another miracle), “Its October 1943, Person. Maybe you should rest a bit. I’ll tell the boys you wake up. Luz and Perconte will be very glad.”

The fuck?! 1943? Is he in limbo or something? Ray only nods, try hard hiding his panic. Eugene starts to check Ray’s bruise, lumps & scratches. No fracture or breaking bones apparently. After a minute or so, Ray starts to speak. “So…Doc...Where the fuck are we?”

Before Eugene can answer, two short men arrives that Ray remembers as Luz and a short Italian guy. This must be Perconte. Seeing this two midget (okay, maybe that’s too harsh. Vertically challenge then), Ray can’t help to think that, maybe at this time, there are no height requirements to enlisted in Army. Ray’s not sure if their height will contribute positively to their combat effectiveness.

Luz calls “Hey Person. We heard that you awake from Lieutenant Winters. Damn, you surely put another thing for your reputation. The-Man-Who-Puke-On-Sobel and now The-Man-Who-Smacked-Twice-by-a-Tree.”

Eugene answers, “I think Person has a concussion, guys. He forgets several things. Like, what year is it. It’s normal and only temporary. Don’t worry. Let him rest for tonight, OK?”

Perconte’s eyebrows lifts, “You’re kidding, right, Person? You’re not playing prank like usual?”

Luz smack Perconte’s head in the back “Idiot. Can’t you see that bruise with the size of fucking Europe in his head? Besides, Doc’s never wrong. He knows what he does, not like you, Perco”. Wow..Ray loves them already.

Finally Ray said “Can you hom…I mean... guys stay a little longer? Maybe you can help refresh my memory?” Their story is his last resort to understand this whole weirdness. As a good Recon Marine, he has to make do.

Luz and Perconte look at Eugene. Eugene shrugged and leaves the three of them. He promises that he will notify Lt Winter that Luz & Perconte will stay for a while to accompany Ray.

They talk until one of the nurses has to use bodily force to throw out Luz & Perconte from the hospital. Apparently, their voices are annoying the other patients. Ray was told so many stories, like about their training in Toccoa, up and down “the fucking Currahee”, and the full story of the Spaghetti Incident (that one is epic). He was confirmed that Sobel is a big asshole and Winters is like a Saint (no alcohol, no profanity, regularly go to church. An Anti-Ray to be exact). He also learns other names and tries to remember them as much as possible. From the stories, Ray can conclude that Easy Company guys are loyal and very close to each other (platonically speaking of course).

He still doesn’t understand why he was here. But he doesn’t have the luxury of time to feel panic. If his guess is right, he is in the dawn of the greatest invasion of Europe. He mentally screams to the god or any magical deity out there, what a fucking convenience time for time traveling. He must adapt to survive this (he’s a Recon Marine, for fuck’s sake!). Surely SERE Training never teach him about how to survive in time travel. Ray makes another mental note to write a curriculum of “Survival, Evasion, Resistance and Escape as a Time Traveler” when he’s back to his time. If he can go back to the future (he can’t believe he think about that movie). What a happy thought.

* * *

 

Ray makes some notes in his diary (or in this case, his Grandpa’s diary). He’s not sure whether his Grandpa’s consciousness is still there with him, or not. And if not, when Ray’s back to his time, will his Grandpa have the memory of what Ray’s experienced during this body-snatcher episode? So just to make it safe, he writes letters to his Grandpa in the diary, detailing everything he did (which in Ray’s time, this activity is so much gay).

Like this one.

Aldbourne, November 1943

Hi Gramp, Okay, this is awkward. I’m your grandson. I was named after you, so my friends also call me Ray. I know it sounds crazy, but I’m in your body right now. Don’t ask me why, because I’m equally confused. I don’t want to tell you the detail about myself, because I don’t want to alter the future or fate or whatever that is (at least, that what I know from movies). I just want to detail my experience during this “freak episode”.

Well, let starts the introduction. I’m a Recon Marine and I’m from year 2003 (crazy, right?!). I was deployed in Iraq when I was hit with this huge rock, and when I woke up, I was in your body. I was hanging in a tree in my harness. Luz told me later, it was our first jump training in England. I had blown by harsh wind and stuck in a tree & got smack again in the head by a falling branch. Don’t laugh at me, Gramp. It’s hurt as hell. I had a concussion and spend two days in the hospital. I was considered fit to join field training four days later.

You know what? In just 1 week I was here, I can declare that Lieutenant Sobel’s assholery level is un-fucking-believable (forgive my French). How can you survive that man in Toccoa?? The dumb LT extraordinaire has fucked up in field training and somehow blame Winters for his own majestic dumbness. Well, actually, it’s Luz & Percos’s fault. They pranked Sobel and, to make long story short, I must watch my step so I didn’t step on cow’s dung that scattered around the base (maybe Luz will tell you the detail later). Although Sobel didn’t have any evidence of who pranked him, he still tried to threaten Winters with martial court. Apparently, Winters had fed up with this bullshit (how appropriate terms, remembering the origin of all this fuss), and accept the martial court, much to Sobel’s dismay.

Ranney gathered some Easy’s NCO, including me, and convinced us that we cannot go into the war with Sobel’s in command. I didn’t need to be convinced though. I immediately said “Count me in. This situation needs to be unfucked.” The other NCO was not commenting my word choice of “unfucked”, so I guess you already use this word in regular basis (I see we have a lot in common). In my time, I had different officer for training and for actual combat. Apparently, in this time, we didn’t have the luxury. I know we will be slaughtered if Sobel lead us for the invasion. This meeting leads to the Easy Co fondly named as “The Sobel Mutiny”. The NCOs threaten to resign from our position, if Sobel still in command. Col. Sink got enrages and some NCO (including Ranney) was demoted or transferred. On the bright side, the NCOs were not lined into the wall to get shot for treason, Winters back to Easy and we got Lt. Meehan that much more capable than Sobel. Ooh - rah, Baby!! (That’s Marine’s battle cry, for your information).

Well, that’s all for now, because my hand hurts. I’ll write again when I got time. Besides, I have to read your Army manuals. My favorite is the “Instructions for American Serviceman in Britain”. That one is hilarious. I’m not sure Anglo-American relationship will improved with this manual.

Love,

Ray

Ray close the diary and mutters “…and I miss you, Gramp..”

* * *

 

Time flies. After all the intense field training, night marches, day & night jumps, and other classroom trainings, they finally only days away before the big jump. Easy Company listening to Lt Meehan briefs their combat operation. Combat jump. D-Day. Operation Overlord. The invasion of Normandy by the Western Allies.

Ray’s not paying much attention during history class in high school (who ever does anyway?), but he knows that the Allies’ invasion was successful and freed the Europe from Jew-slaughtering-Nazi within a year. Now, he regretted not to pay attention to the detail of the upcoming invasion. This information will be useful in the future (or past? Fuck!! This is confusing).

In his tent, reading the map after the briefing, Ray tries to calm himself. But in his head, he constantly repeats “We’re jumping at night. Fuck!! While the Krauts shooting at us.” Kraut is slang for German, by the way.

George Luz, Easy’s Radioman and Clown of the Company (that’s an official title, according to Ray), sits beside him, chain smoking and playing poker with Talbert & Lt. Buck Compton. Ray is not playing. He’s been royally beaten in the previous round by Malarkey. That red-head Irish motherfucker keeps bragging of his “luck of the Irish” after that. Besides, as a squad leader, he must remember all the maps, routes, and sand tables by heart.

At first, Ray was struggling as a squad leader. He didn’t used to being asked for direction or led an attack. But he tries his best. Before making a decision, he would ask to himself, “What would Brad do?” (He definitely would not tell Brad about this if he can meet that Viking again). After some time, the decision making process becoming more natural. Maybe Ray has the ability as a leader after all. Who would have guessed?

Ray nudges Luz ribs and said, “Luzzy, you scared?”

With his eyes still watching his cards, Luz answer, “Do not fucking call me that, Ray-Ray. And I’m not chicken shit like you.” Talbert and Buck snorts.

Ray shrugged, “Good to know, buddy. Someone has to take care of Perco. Just make sure he’s not brush his fucking tooth in the plane, will ya? Our orthodontically-obsessed friend still thinks that his white smile will charm the Krauts to not shoot him.”

Buck’s laugh boomed, “Another fancy word, Ray? How come a redneck like you knows the word orthodontic?”

Ray likes Buck. Although an officer shouldn’t gamble with enlisted man (no fraternization bullshit or something like that), Buck doesn’t care. He also let them call him with his nick name, not “Sir” or “Lieutenant” like other officers.

Ray only shrug and continue reading his maps. For some reason, Ray feels that his Marine trainings is much more useful here than in Iraq. Brad once said that they were “perfectly-tuned Ferraris in a demolition derby”. They were trained to become a Recon Marine that spend $1,000,000 on average, for fuck’s sake, but then dumped in Humvee platoons to lead parades of POGs and dumb officers. Ray even not sure any more about the real reason they invade Iraq.

Maybe this is why Ray was thrown back in time? To feel confidence about what he’s being trained and to use it to the max? To become a leader? To have a legit reason in invading some country?

Ray’s contemplation is cut short when Bill Guarnere entering the tent, “Hey, Ray. What do you hear? What do you say?” It’s Bill’s tagline in fishing gossips.

Ray answers “Hey, Gonorrhea. Promoted to Syphilis, yet?” It’s not Ray’s fault that Bill’s surname resembles the STD.

All the men laugh. Bill grins. “Wow…nice one, white trash.”

It’s confirmed a family tradition. Apparently, Ray’s Grandpa was called White Trash here and Ray was called Whiskey Tango from the phonetic alphabet version of it by his Marines friends.

Ray says, “Well, you have a shitty name and if you have gossips or something, you’ll fucking spread it to everyone else. You even worse than my Ma. And my Ma is the Queen Gossip of White Trash” Buck’s laugh is the loudest.

Bill tries again, ”Yeah, Ray…you and Luz definitely a match made in heaven. You with your trout mouth, and Luz with his annoying impersonation.”

Luz piped in “Hey Bill, I’m not saying anything here. Besides, thanks to my brilliant impersonation, we had Sobel kicked out from Easy.”

Everyone said “Amen to that” “Come on, Ray. Do you have any news when we will jump?”

Bill ask again “Didn’t you hear Meehan, Bill? If it’s time for us to know, they will tell us.” Buck patiently explains.

“Yeah, I heard that, Buck. But we have been here, in Upottery, for..what…three days? Why they make us to leave Aldbourn in hurry, to make us wait in our ass here”

Ray answers “Well, that’s our motto, right? ‘Hurry up and wait’. Just wait, Bill. You’ll know the day is come when they give us ice cream. They usually give us edible food when we’re about to die, right?”

Luz smack Ray’s head “Thanks for the happy thought, wise ass”

They all know this jump is an extremely high risk. But Ray cannot see any fear in these men eyes. He finally understood why these men was called the greatest generation America ever had. They have survived the Great Depression and extreme poverty. But still they voluntarily become pioneering squads that jump from a perfectly working airplane that flies right through German’s anti-aircraft artillery, into behind enemy line. Ray is proud his Grandpa (and now, himself) was one of these badass men. Easy Company’s badassery level: Infinite


	2. Chapter 2

Ray smokes his third cigarettes. The effect of airsickness pill that were distributed before they take-off has begun to fade. The cancer stick calms him a little. As calm as you can get when you are about to jump behind enemy line. Nobody speaks. Maybe they’re praying, try not to pee and/ or shit themselves, or maybe still a little bit loopy because of the airsickness pill.

It’s dark inside the plane. They took-off at 2300 hours. There is only some window in the plane. Ray cannot see what happens outside the plane, but he knew that below him, thousands of US, British & Canadian Army are crossing the English Channel. Easy Company’s mission is to secure causeway number 2 behind Utah Beach and destroying German’s coastal artillery battery for the Allied forces landing from the sea a few hours later.

Then the party begins. First, Ray only hears the muted “boom” sound. Minutes later, the sky is alive with red, blue and green tracers of German anti-aircraft fire. It’s like flying through the fireworks of the 4th of July, multiply 1000 times.

His adrenaline is pumping. His senses never feel this alive, even back then when he’s digesting Ripped Fuel like candy or when he’s got ambushed in Iraq. This is much more intense.

The pilot switches on the red light. They all stand up and hook up to the static line. It’s time to jump.

Luck plays a big role that night. Ray hears Luz ask Cobb to exchange seat. Luz is 5th in the stick and, with all his equipment, radio and all; he thought he would never manage to get out the plane. Cobb is 4th and Ray is 3rd in the stick. There’s Lipton in the 2nd and Buck in the 1st as the jumpmaster. Luz and Cobb switch places so Luz is now behind Ray. Just seconds after they make equipment check, heavy flak hit the plane and hit Cobb. Red light changes to green. Ray only got seconds to see Luz’s ashen face, before he walk to the door and jump into the night.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!! Shit! That was close” Ray mutters in his breath.

He tries to steer his parachute when he hears a ripped sound. He looks up and sees his parachute has been torn, maybe being shot by a machine gun. It’s too low to open the reserves parachute, so Ray tries to maneuver it as much as possible so he will not be an omelet in French soil.

He ended in a tree and maybe got unconscious for several minutes. He wakes up hanging in a tree, in his harness. Shit!! Again? What is it with Ray, parachute and tree? Well at least there’s no broken bone. He tries to reach the knife in his boots. Not successful.

Suddenly he hears a snapping branch. He whispers the passcode “Flash”. He hopes the respond will be “Thunder”, or Ray’s a dead meat.

“Thunder…Jeez, Ray. What is it with you, parachute and tree? “. Behold, it’s Jolly Old Saint Luz.

“Shut the fuck up, George!!”

This is plain undignified.

* * *

 

They walked along the edge of the forest. They haven’t met any of their comrades.

“Do you know where we are, Ray?”

“Normandy.”

“No shit”

“Look…just look for any landmark, Okay. City signs, church, bridges. Anything. I have a map. Then we can decide where we are going.”

“Okay….”

“What is it, George?”

“Do you think Cobb gonna be okay? Shit!! That could be me, Ray. And most of my things got lost with that fucking leg bag. I also lost my radio. I’m a radioman without a fucking radio!!”

“Cobb’s gonna be fine. As annoying as he is, I think his guardian angel still want to save his ass. About your radio, just remember what Winters always say ‘Rifleman first, Radioman second’. At least we got our rifles. You’ll get your replacement radio when we’re in assembly area.”

Luz calms a little. “I think the smack on your head did something good for you, Ray. You’re getting wiser.”

Suddenly, Ray trips and falls in all fours. Luz tries his best not to laugh, but Ray can see his shoulder shaking.

“Shit!! I’m blind as a motherfucker here. Where’s the goddamn NVG when I need one?”

“What’s that?”

Shit. NVG is still in developing stage by the American during WW2, although the Germans already develop it for their Panzer tanks. Ray tries to find the right answers “Err… Night Vision Goggles. I’ve read in a magazine that the Army is developing that kind of shit for night war.”

Before Luz can respond anything, they heard sounds from their behind. Luz drags Ray into the hedgerow and they hide. They stay silent when they see a group of German soldier pass them using a horse carriage. Really? A horse carriage? That is so ancient. The Germans already develop night vision devices but still use horses for transportation. How weird is that? No wonder the Allies gonna win this shit. They hide until the Germans are gone.

Luz whispers, “That was close. Do you know what they’re talking about?”

“Maybe they’re discussing Christmas present for us.”

“Smartass”

* * *

 

After 8 hours of walking through swamps, mosquitoes and dead livestock, not to mention dead paratroopers & German soldier, they finally met the other Easy men in their designated assembly area, Le Grand Chemin. The smell of the village is beyond disgusting. There’s a big pool of blood in the main road, comes from the dead livestock previously used by the Germans for road block. The sun already high so the heat and the smell are overwhelming.

Bill is the first one who sees Ray and Luz “Hey, Luz….Ray… still breathing aren’t ya?”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Gonorrhea. But who will babysit Perco if we dead?”

Frank only answer, “Fuck off, Ray”

“I love you too, Perco. So..Bill…any news? Where are the rest of the men?”

“I think they’re still scattered. We all missed our DZ. I got here this morning with Winters, Malarkey, Popeye, Lipton, Toye, one man from Able and 2 men from 82nd.”

At this point, Frank cut in “Luz, do you have extra toothbrush? Mine was in that fucking leg bag.”

Luz pinches the bridge of his nose, sigh and answer with patronizing voice, “Jeez, I can’t believe you’re married. Poor woman. Come on, Perco. We’re going to supply office. I want to report about my radio.”

Ray starts again, “So Bill…you’re sayin’?”

“What? Oh… Right… Lt. Meehan still nowhere to be seen, so Lt. Winters’ now our C.O until we receive news about Meehan.”

“Really? That’s great. Winters is a cool dude.”

“He what?”

“Nothing. Continue.” Ray keeps forgetting that he cannot use dude, yo, homes, dawg or brah when calling people. Usually, when he slipped to say those words, Easy men only eyeing him like he’s crazy; inventing some bullshit words.

“Did you smack your head again, Person? Anyway, Strayer ordered us to taking care Kraut artillery battery in Brecourt. The order were only, may I quote ‘There's fire along that hedgerow there. Take care of it’. Can you believe it?! There’re only 12 of us at that time, and we didn’t have any idea how many fucking Krauts we’re going to face. The battery initially been reported as three 88 mm guns, but it turned out, there were FOUR 105 mm guns and one MG!! “

“Shit!!”

“Yeah, well, no shit. Winters did some recon and then we attacked the battery. That was some serious strategy, he did. Me, Malark and Buck were flanking to destroy the MG & provided covering fire. Then he and the rest of the guys destroyed the guns, one by one. Lt. Speirs, ya know, from Dog Company, come for reinforcement. That man has a death wish, I tell ya. He practically destroyed the last gun himself by running outside the trench and gunning all the Krauts. Fucking nuts!! Then, Winters found some Kraut’s map that marked the location of all Kraut artillery and machine gun positions throughout the coast, so we returned to give these maps to Lt. Nixon. And you know how many Kraut we’re actually faced? 60!! We had one casualty, Hall, that’s the guy from Able Company. Oh…and Popeye was getting shot in the ass.”

Ray is dumbfounded. Winters is definitely a cross between a Saint and a fucking ninja. Leading 12 men, facing 60 enemies, taking four guns and one machine gun, bring back an important piece of intelligence, with only one casualty. After this, all Easy men will look at him like the sun is shining from his ass.

“Is Popeye okay?”

Bill laughs, “Ha ha…that guy? He’s repeatedly saying he’s sorry. Over and over again to Winters. 'I'm sorry, Lieutenant, I goofed. I goofed. I'm sorry.' “

“He what?! He’s shot by the Kraut, for fuck’s sake!! Why the hell he felt sorry for?!”

“Yeah. Apparently, he didn’t like to be sent back to England this fast. He said, ‘I just got here’. That’s Popeye to you.”

Again, Ray found new respect for Easy men. These guys are so dedicated to their company that they apologized for getting hit. Now here was a soldier - hit by enemy fire in Normandy on D-Day, behind the German lines, and he is more upset that he had let his buddies down than he was concerned with his own injury. Popeye's actions spoke for all of them.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, more Easy men show up. Talbert arrives with Shifty, Smokey and Blithe. Joe Liebgott (Joe #1 a.k.a Lieb, the Jew-guy-that-got-mad-when-reminded-he-is-a-Jew) showing off his Nazi flag. Talbert counters him by showing off a German raincoat. Apparently, today is Show-off-your-souvenir-from-dead-German Day. Joe Toye (Joe #2, the Joe-with-chiseled-abs-and-sexy-voice, not that Ray is going homoerotic) talking to Luz about how Winters saved him from grenade in Brecourt assault yesterday (Damn, this Winters person is start to resembles angel).

Ray sits with most of Easy around the World War One memorial statue, watching them talking and/or gossiping, mostly about the notorious Lt. Speirs. Lesson learnt: do not receive any cigarettes from the Lieutenant if you don’t have a dead wish. There’s a rumor that he’s hosing down German POW after he’s offering the cigarettes. Beside him, Blithe laying down and blinking weakly. Frank showing off his “collection” of dead German’s watches (“They all ticking, unlike their previous owners”). Blithe looks appalled. Ray wants to slap Frank in the head and makes a mental note to protect his belonging from Frank’s scrounging ability.

Ray is a little bit concern with Blithe. The kid looks distant. His eyes looking the sky, empty. He looks exactly like Walt after he accidently shoot civilians in Iraq. Blithe’s voice is very soft, almost like a whisper when he talking with Frank and Dukeman. Although Blithe is not in his squad, they’re still in the same platoon. Ray will keep his eye on this kid.

Lt. Harry Welsh, 1st Platoon leader, hollered “Let’s go! 1st Platoon! Easy’s moving out. On your feet!”

Ray gathers his squad member. He stands between Luz and Perco. They look like the Three Stooges of Easy.

Welsh continues to yell “Listen up! It’ll be dark soon. I want light and noise discipline from here on. No talking, no smoking and no playing grab-fanny with the man in front of you, Luz”. The men grin; glad that their asses are save for today. Luz looks disappointed. Grab-fanny with its complicated scoring system is his pride.

Hoobler asks, “So where are we headed to, Lieutenant?”

“We’re taking Carentan. It’s the only place where armor from Omaha and Utah Beach can link up and head inland. Until we take Carentan, they’re stuck on the sand. General Taylor’s sending the whole division.”

Luz cut in, imitating General Taylor, “Remember boys, give me three days and three nights of hard fighting… and you will be relieved.” The men laugh, including Welsh.

Welsh yelled, “1st platoon, fall behind Fox Company. You people from 2nd and 3rd Platoons, follow us. Shake a leg.”

Luz continues his imitation of General Taylor, “Another thing to remember, boys: flies spread disease, so keep yours close.” More laugh erupts.

Welsh grins and shakes his head, “Oh Luz.”

When you’re scared to shit, give it to George Luz to ease the tension.

* * *

 

Ray officially declares that walking to Carentan is no Road Trip. He miss his pimp shade, he cannot sing, he cannot smoke, the mosquitoes are big as an elephant and Frank asked every version of “Are we there yet?”. Ray swears if his midget of a friend asks one more time, he will kick Frank into the swamp.

Winters moved along the line to check his men. He asked for their condition and said words of encouragement, like “Hang Tough”. That must be his tag line. Winters said it with genuine sincerity; Ray could not help for being inspired and looked at him with awe. Maybe New Kids on the Block’s hit single in the 90s was inspired by this man? Well, maybe not.

They lost F Company again. Ray was in discussion with Welsh when Winters came. Winters taps Ray’s shoulder, “You okay, Ray?”

“Yeah, pretty much, Sir, considering this FUBAR situation.”

“FUBAR?”

Ah, shit!! Ray makes abbreviation again. The Lieutenant’s mind is too innocent to know abbreviation that contains profanity. “Err…FUBAR, Sir. Fucked Up Beyond All Repair.”

Winters pinch the bridge of his nose, try not to laugh. He got cool officer reputation to maintain.

Ray and Welsh grin.

“Okay, Ray. If you say so. Welsh, did you send somebody?”

“Yeah, I got Hoobler and Blithe out there now.”

Lt. Nixon approaches them, “Why are we stopped, Dick?”

Winters answers glumly, “This is about officers crapping out on their training, Nix. Come on. Let’s get this show on the road.” Winters and Nixon then walk towards the woods where Hoobler and Blithe went.

Ray watches the Golden Duo of Easy walking away. He can’t believe that a man who had “Dick” as a nick name can be so respected, competent, reliable and confident. One word from him, all Easy men will comply without a word. It’s like if Brad & Lt. Fick can produce a kid (not a good mental image, Ray admits), that will be Lt. Winters.

* * *

 

D-Day plus six. Finally they reached outskirt of Carentan. Fortunately, Easy’s lead by Winters. Unfortunately, the city is highly invested by German’s paratrooper, _Fallschirmjaeger._ So, apparently, today’s fight will be one hell of Paratrooper Showdown. (Well, shit. Ray starts to use rhymed words)

Ray is as nervous as hell. He missed the Brecourt Assault on D-Day, so this will be his first real combat with equal opponent. He’s been involved in several combat and ambush in Afghanistan and Iraq. His opponents at that time were mostly unorganized and their warfare capabilities are far below his. But Winters is nowhere like Encino Man and no Easy men has manic tendency like Captain America. Ray will confidently follow his order.

Welsh and Luz leads in front of him when the hell break loose. Machine guns pinned them down and forced them to take cover in the ditch. Ray starts to panic. They’re fucking sitting duck. Then, the Superman in the form of Lt. Winters gets up from the ditch, running up and down the road, screaming, kicking and pulling the men to get off their sorry asses. He even removes his helmet and bonking it to the men’s helmet, breaking them from their shock.

Winters keep shouting, “Get up!! Get up!! You are in the open!! Move out, men!! Follow me!!” Now that is a true leader. And also pretty fucking ninja.

Ray gets up, run forward, and yelled, “Ooh - rah, Baby!! Get some!!”

Luz yelled back, confused with the unfamiliar battle cry, “What the fuck, Person???!!”

Ray doesn’t care. What he care is how not to disappoint Lt. Winters and his fellow Easy men. He provides covering fire for Hoobler, Luz, Liebgott and Tipper who conduct house-to-house sweep. He sees another ninja action, this time in the form of Lt. Welsh that throwing grenade through the window at machine guns operators and then reloads his rifle. Shifty, that was pinned down by this particular machine gun gives thumbs up. He continues his sniper action as if he just playing video games. Without any sniper scope, he never missed; always hit the Krauts in the head. Super awesome!

Then the German artillery joins the party. Shell after shell bombards the city. Sgt. Lipton shouts warning so everyone cleared the road or they’ll got zeroed. Ray sees before his eyes, one soldier takes direct hit of the mortar. The legs blown off completely and he falls to the ground like a rag doll. The mortar sent shrapnel and rocks everywhere. Bull lifts the fallen soldier out of war zone.

Another mortar hits. This time, it blows Lipton across the street, into a wall. Ray doesn’t have time to check on Lipton. He rushes towards Malarkey and Skip. There he sees a seriously badass Irish priest giving the last rites for both American and German dying soldiers. In the middle of the street. Under fire. What the hell??

Malarkey shouts, “Crazy fools, the Irish!!”

Ray yelled back while he shots a sniper who aiming for the priest, “Yeah?! Says the Mick who groping dead Krauts under fire looking for a Luger.”

What happened next is like a blur. Ray’s body moved without thinking. Duck, aim, shoot, run, lead, throw grenade, covering fire. He feels alive. Adrenaline rushed in his veins. He got shot in the left hand, but it’s only a ricochet. No biggy. He even didn’t feel anything. He never feels like this in Iraq or Afghanistan. He feels like a fucking warrior. If only Brad can see him now.

* * *

 

They’re moving again, heading east toward high ground. The city has been cleared from the German, but they expecting counter attack, since Carentan is as much important to the German as it is to them.

Ray walks behind Blithe. That kid worries Rays. Doc Roe told Ray that Blithe has experience hysterical blindness during the attack of Carentan. That kid was so scared; he lost his sight during the battle. That’s so fucked up. Then, again, Lt. Winters saved the day. He talked to Blithe, and suddenly, Blithe’s vision is back.

“It’s spooky, Person. I never saw something like that”, Doc said to Ray while patching Ray’s wound. “All Blithe needed was somebody to talk to him for a minute and calm him down. Look after him, ‘kay?”

Ray still watching Blithe when Frank start to bitching another version of “Are we there yet?”. Ray cannot believe he befriend this retarded midget.

“Hey, Luz. How far are we going?”

Luz exhales spectacularly, “Oh, Jesus Christ, Frank. I don’t know. Until they tell us to stop.”

Hoobler is kind enough to answer, “High ground. There’s high ground up ahead.”

Oblivious with exasperated glance from Ray and Luz, Frank continues to bitching about why Easy is always in the front or in advance even though there are nine companies in the regiment. Ray wants to answer “because Easy is the best, dumbass”, but before he can open his mouth, German machine guns from the higher ground are showering them.

Welsh hollered, “Contact right! Get in the hedgerow! Bring it around! Right there! Stay low! Luz, get down here with the radio! Sgt. More, Sgt. Person! On me!”

Ray has to drag Blithe to the hedgerow since that kid frozen to the spot. He continues firing toward the higher ground, while Blithe cowering into fetal position and shaking besides him. Shit, this kid is surely fucked up.

* * *

 

“What the fuck that Krauts are singing?!”

“How the hell I know, Luz? I don’t understand German. I only need to know ‘Ich liebe dich’ to get under a German skirt when we’re jumping to Berlin.”

“You’re a fucking pervert, Ray”

“Yeah?! Like you’re not?! You’ll fuck anything with skirt, even if it’s a goat.”

Luz is wise enough to not answer this. They’re sharing a foxhole that night. They supposed to take turn to get some sleep, but both of them are too wired to close their eyes. That the foxhole is too similar with a grave and the Krauts singing out loud in their line are not helping either.

“Anyway, what the hell happened to Blithe, Ray?”

“He scared his ass out. Doc said he got hysterical blindness during the attack.”

“Jesus!!” Luz stays silent after that. Very un-Luz-ly.

“What’s the matter, Luz? Do you want to say something to your dearest pal, Ray-Ray?”

Luz makes a weak smile. “I almost killed a family, Ray?”

“Come again?”

“You remember when me and Hoobler did that house-to-house sweep, right? Back in the city? We’re both outside this house. Hoobler keep pushing me to throw grenade through the window, before we entering the house. Somehow, I didn’t feel like it. I kicked the door, and there were this family, a woman, a kid and an old man, hugging each other. Shit, Ray!! If I throw that grenade, I might kill them. But what if there’s Krauts in that house? I’d be dead by now because I was hesitating!!”, Luz throws his hands to his head.

For a minute, Ray doesn’t know what to say.

“But you didn’t kill them, George. And you didn’t die either. You follow your spider sense and you save a family. That’s all that matters now. “

“Spider sense? The hell was that?”

“Er…instinct, you might say.”

“Then why the hell don’t you say that, Ray? You keep using these bullshit words, you messed up hick.”

Suddenly, they heard a scream.

“The fuck? That sounds like Floyd’s. Stay here Luz. I’m gonna check it.”

* * *

 

“Luz, got smokes? Want this candy shit?”

“Nah, I’m alright.”

It’s D-Day plus 7. Ray and other Welsh’s NCOs are gathering for briefing. Last night has been very eventful.

Lessons learnt #1: Do not use German poncho while waking up your friend for guard duty.

Talbert was using his dead-German-souvenir poncho while guard duty and knocked Smith’s helmet with his Colt to wake him up. Smith, still hazy from the sleep, decided to bayoneted Talbert, hence the screaming that Luz and Ray heard last night. Dressed as a Kraut + waking a nervous trooper = kebab incident. Noted.

Lessons learnt #2: If you’re scared, do not…Ray repeats…do not pour your fucking heart out to Lt. Speirs.

Blithe, the poor kid, stumbled to the Sparky Lieutenant and, out of the blue, tell the LT how scared he is. The kind LT gladly gave his brilliant advice (sarcasm intended) such as: “The only hope you have is to accept the fact that you're already dead, and the sooner you accept that, the sooner you'll be able to function as a soldier's supposed to function. Without mercy, without compassion, without remorse. All war depends on it.” Ray would love to shout “Thanks for the morale boost, Sir”, but Ray doesn’t have a death wish. So he kept his mouth closed.

Conclusion: Being Easy men is never dull.

Welsh starts to explain their situation, “We don’t know what they’ve got.” Well, that’s old news, Ray thinks. They never know what they faced until the Krauts shooting at them right in the face.

“We may be attacking a weaker force. Possibly more Paratroopers”

Hoobler grins, “And you know how they can be.”

Welsh smirks and nodded, “Fire and maneuver. That’s the name of the game. Dog and Fox companies will be on our left flank, moving with us. Any question? Good. Let’s make ‘em holler.”

Perco look at his “souvenir” wrist watch and says, “it’s 9:30 in the evening back home. Must be..”

His rambling is cut short by the Kraut’s mortars. They all take cover in their foxhole and start shooting back. Malarkey and his mortar squad return the fire to the German line.

Winters (forever a great leader) moves along the line, shouting instruction and encouragement.

“Watch for silhouettes on the horizon! Find your target! Mortar, keep low! Perconte, get your man in order! I want fire superiority! Guarnere, keep them pinned down!”

Ray keeps firing the Krauts, when he hears Blithe shouting, “No, no, no!!”. Blithe is failed to muster up his courage and become more and more panic, cowering in his hole.

From the corner of his eyes, Ray can see Winters reach down to Blithe, shaking the kid’s shoulder, and shouting while he himself shooting the Krauts, “Come on, Blithe! Stand up! Get on your feet, soldier! You can do it. Hit those goddamn Germans, Blithe! Rip it at them, Blithe!” Apparently Winters can curse when he wants to motivate his men. The effect is amazing. Blithe slowly stand up from his hole and starts shooting.

Ray hears shouts from the bushes next to him. He sees Welsh running out of the bushes to the open with McGrath, bringing Bazooka. It looks like they try to shoot a Panzer tank that currently headed towards their line. This is crazy. Ray commands his squad to provide covering fire for them.

One shot from the tank pass through their head, blasting the trees. Trees shrapnel hitting their helmets Shit!! That was fucking close. Welsh and McGrath maintain their position in the open, and finally, shoots the tank right in the unprotected part. Easy men shout their joy.

Then, Ray sees the most beautiful sight in his life. A parade of US’ Sherman tanks come to the party and blasting the Panzers . The German soldiers scurrying away.

Frank yells, “That’s right, you sorry asses! Run!”

Ray wants to kiss the Shermans.

* * *

 

D-Day plus 25 and Easy finally pulled back from the front line. Ray wants to shout to General Taylor “so much of three days and three nights, asshole!!” and shove his boots to the General’s ass.

To say that they stink is a major understatement. Ray feels like a pig shit. This is the longest time Ray is not wiping his ass without proper toilet paper, shower, or “reading” some “skin magazine”. Even in Iraq, he always has toilet paper, shit box, baby wipes, and Juggs, albeit the old edition, is not contraband. He cannot understand why porn magazine is considered as contraband in this era. It helps to boost morale and ease the combat stress (scientifically speaking), for fuck’s sake.

They’re heading to a field camp north of Utah Beach for hot food and hot showers. Then wait for transportation to back to England.

“Hey Ray. Do you think Blithe will survive that shot? Well that kid’s rotten luck is surely surpasses yours. Lessons learnt guys. Do not volunteer for scouting.”

“Point, Frank. That kid finally found his balls for once, and he got shot in the throat. But I think he’s gonna make it. Doc’s patched him good.”

“Wow, look at those replacements. Shit, they looked like they just finished breastfeeding from their Ma.”

“Shit, Frank!! Now I have to burn the image from my mind!!”

“You know guys, the first thing I wanna do when we arrived in England is to find some skirt to have fun with. Oh…And find some good booze”

“Yeah, George. That’s the first thing in everyone’s to-do-list. Good luck find a decent one. Do us a favor to use the Army issued ‘prophylactic kit’. Don’t wanna pissing needles aren’t we?”

“Thank for the unnecessary sex ed, Ray.”

Frank and George starts to detailing their ‘to-do-list when we’re back in England’. Ray shuts his eyes and tries to take some needed rest. He will make his own to-do-list later.


	4. Chapter 4

Ray’s mind is scarred for life. Since Frank said that the replacements looked like just finished breastfeeding from their Ma, the mental image always come every time he saw them. It’s not helped that half of the Easy Company is now replacements and his responsibility is to train them for the next campaign.

Easy had jumped into Normandy with 139 officers and men. Easy was pulled out of the line with only 74 officers and men present for duty. Lt. Meehan was officially declared killed in action. His plane was shot during the D-Day. No survivor from his plane. Lt Winters was appointed as Easy’s CO, and has been promoted to Captain. The Captain’s BFF, Lt. Nixon, also promoted into Regimental’s intelligence officer. How Nixon maintains his Intel works while constantly drinking his beloved Vat 69, is beyond Ray.

Capt. Winters managed to smuggle some real ammunition for training back to Aldbourne. Well, that will give a realistic combat training for the replacements, Ray thinks. Apparently, Winters got some tricks behind his no-sin appearance. This is extremely high risk, because if one the replacement’s head got shot, Winters’ ass is on the line of fire. Maybe that’s the best quality that Ray likes about Winters. The Captain knows when to obey and when to bend the rules. He will do his best for his men. He maybe just a few years older than the men, but he is surely matured a lot.

Their weeks in Aldbourne are filled with day and night field problems, physical training, inspections and trips to the firing range. It’s Ray responsibility to integrate his squad through the trainings, since half of it are replacements. Because he’s the squad leader, he must restrain not to bully them, at least not so much. He’s a veteran now, all grown up, hardened by combat and shit. To say that it’s exhausting was an understatement. Sometimes Ray found himself sleeping still using his filthy uniform and boots, too tired to remove them.

To integrate the replacements with the original Toccoa men is difficult. The recruits were always excited, tense, eager, and nervous. The veterans were worried that this behavior will lead them to unnecessary death. So that some of the veterans treated the replacements as doormat can be expected. There are exceptions however, like Bill Guarnere that kinda ‘adopts’ one replacement, Edward ‘Babe’ Heffron for one retarded reason; Babe is from Philly, Bill’s hometown, and looks like a baby (hence the nickname). They’ve been attached in the hips since they met.

Ray, Frank and George make the best use of their weekend passes. When they were not in a marshaling area or on an alert, they will do the bar-hopping, skirt-hunting, annoying-people-in-the-movie-tent or drinking-until-you-passed-out-and-kicked-out. The trio reasons that this is necessary to release the stress. The activities are most likely followed up by one hell of hangover in the next morning.

Like this morning or noon or what the fuck the time is now, Ray feels someone kicking his foot.

“Ray…Ray…wake up, you wasted hick. It’s almost noon. I’ve told you not to play drinking game with Malarkey. He’s Irish, for Pete’s sakes. He practically drinks whiskey since baby”

“Argh…Shut your fucking yap, Bill. Can’t you see I’m hangover, ya shithead?! Go back babysitting Babe!!”

“WHAT??? YOU GOT A HANGOVER??!”, the Italian fucker purposely shouts to Ray’s ear.

“Gonorrhea, you retard motherfucker!! Just wait until I slit your fucking throat!!”

Bill’s blasted laugh is so not helping Ray’s pounding headache. “Do you want me to drag you to the shower or do you want to drag your wasted ass yourself? Your choice. Luz needs your help to fix his radio in the mess hall. Where the fuck did you learn electronics anyway?”

Ray tries not to throw up, “I’m gifted, Bill. I’m the biggest addition to humanity since the discovery of planes, paratroopers and the marines.”

“Go fuck yourself!!”

“That’s physically impossible, you fucking retard. And I’m not into using dildo up in my majestic ass.”

Bill gaped for a solid ten seconds. Shit!! Apparently men of this time not used to hear homoerotic jokes. But then, Bill is laughing very hard, it gives another wave of headache and nausea to Ray’s head.

“Shit, Ray!!”He laughs for a good 5 minutes, while Ray making out with the toilet.

* * *

 

If Ray had to choose, he prefers to stay in Aldbourne until the war is over. Spending the summer in Aldbourne is so much better that spending summer in Normandy or any other fucked up warzone in Europe. They sleep in clean sheet, they got toilet with real toilet paper, and they got hot chow. He even able to bully one replacement to smuggle some porn magz (called Titters, super lame name), but disappointingly, the magazine is too polite for his taste. He misses Brad’s Juggs.

There were several changes in the higher ups, and those Generals are itching to get the Airborne Army into action. But every time they made a plan, briefed the men, transported them to their marshaling areas, and prepared to load up, the ground troops overran the DZ and the mission was canceled. It’s like dealing with Ferrando in Iraq all over again. Maybe Ferrando reincarnated from this fucktard Generals, Ray muses.

They have been briefed again for their next operation. Operation Market – Garden. The objective is to get British Second Army, with the Guards Armored Division in the van, through Holland and across the Rhine on a line Eindhoven-Son-Veghel-Grave-Nijmegen-Arnhem. Ray has no idea where the fuck the towns are. He only knows Holland for its red district, for fuck’s sake (literally speaking). The men also were not happy when they know that they will be under British command.

But orders are orders. Soldiers are robots in this fucked up war. Well at least they’re in the right side and Ray is 100% sure the people in Europe are waiting to be liberated by the Allies. The enemy is clearly identified (and it helps that they’re wearing uniforms, not pajamas). Unlike when he’s in Iraq; he’s not sure the Iraqis want to be liberated. Or even if they do, the Iraqis will whole heartedly hate the Americans for leaving the country even more fucked up than before.

They were gathered in the marshaling area. Ray just received the final briefing for the jump and he addressing his squad.

“Hey, minions!! Listen up, ladies!! Sling your rifle up and down otherwise it’ll break your jaw when you hit the ground. You won’t need your reserve ‘chute, we’re jumping low. Jump ready to fight. Listen to Papa Ray and you’ll be safe.” Ray doesn’t care if the replacements are offended to be called minion and/or ladies.

“Ray, don’t scare the babies. They just passed their potty training.” Yeah, Frank is one of Toccoa man that treats the replacements as doormat.

“Nah. They okay, Frank. I think their level of retardation is not as bad as yours.”

“You can bully your men, but you can’t bully me. We have the same rank, asshole.”

“Oh really, midget?”

“I’m not a midget!!”

“Riiigght….I’ll call you vertically-challenge then. Do you understand that word? Or shall I change it to intellectually-challenge?”

The replacements laugh at this.

Ray facing them and use his best impersonation of Brad’s Iceman voice, “What the fuck are you laughing at?” Ha! Take that, Brad!! The babies are shitting their pants.

* * *

 

Ray felt sorry for Popeye. The scrawny little guy cannot sit through their flight to Holland. He stood up in the back of the stick. His butt was not fully healed but he persuaded the nurse in hospital and he went AWOL so he can join his buddies in Easy Company. And he’s not the only one who went AWOL. Winters got used to ‘accidentally misplaced’ reports from hospitals. Even he cannot hold back the men’s loyalty to the company. It’s Easy Company tradition; as long as your finger can pull the trigger, do anything to get back to the company, no matter what.

The jump to Holland is completely different from the D-Day jump to Normandy. It was the dream jump. Clear sky, day jump, no flaking of Krauts artillery, no machine gun shooting at them and Ray’s landed his white butt on the soft, green grass (Yeah, eat that, Luz!!). And, to add the sprinkles to the ice cream, the people of Eindhoven were throwing party at them. Literally.

You can say that the Nazi are bad when you see the Eindhovians (Ray doesn’t know how to call Eindhoven residents) crying with joy when they see the Americans. The women are showering them with kisses (not that Ray complains, his face is red from heat, ‘heat’, and lipsticks), the old people are giving them food and beer (Ray keeps the food and munching some) and they were pulled here and there for photographs (Ray is embracing his newly founded celebrity status). The road is filled with people, they hardly move one inch. This is so not Iraq. Ray never feels so appreciated.

“Hey, George!! George!! Do you see Frank?!”

“Last time I saw him, his face was drowning in some majestic tits.”

“Shit!! That midget finally gets some. I wonder what his wife thinks if she know about this.”

“That, my friend, will be our next blackmail material.” George’s smirk is as evil as can be.

Before Ray can say anything, Lt. Peacock (yup, that’s a real name) shouts in the top of his lung, “Forward!! Keep moving forward!!” Peacock is Welsh’s replacement, since Welsh was promoted to Winter’s executive officer.

Ray was struggling in keeping his squad together. He has to drag one of the replacements in the collar since the particular boy is munching everything (food and women lips alike). By the time Easy finally managed to leave the city, it’s already dark. They dug their foxhole outside Eindhoven.

* * *

 

“Vincent van Gogh was born in Neunen.” Webster the college boy broke the silence

Cobb, always cynical, replies “Yeah, so what?”

Hoobler says with less teasing “Sure teach you a lot of useful stuff at Harvard.”

Ray says “Well, of course it’s useful. It teaches you not to cut your own ear when you were dumped by your girl, and then give it to her as a souvenir. You got that, Babe?!” Babe was dumped by his girl, Doris (Ray knows, it’s a grandma name), and he’s been brooding ever since.

Babe looks queasy.

Cobb and Hoobler paled and shout, “No shit!”

Ray shrugs.

Webster grins.

Everybody happy.

Well, not really, because minutes later, they’re not so happily exchange bullet and mortars again with the Krauts. And this time, Easy experience their first retreat.

It’s fucking sucks.

* * *

 

“Ray, you okay? Your hands shaking.”

“Fine, Doc. It’s just adrenaline. First time retreating was not a happy experience, you know”

“Tell me ‘bout it. Here…coffee…still hot”

“Thanks, Doc. Don’t you have someone to be sewed or cut?” Doc cringes.

“I’ve just finished patched up Buck. He got shot in the butt, you know? Clean shot through both cheeks. One bullet, four holes.”

Ray snorts, ”Buck and his larger-than-life ass. Well, that’s another thing to put as Easy Company’s tradition, besides went AWOL. Getting shot in the ass.” Doc gives a chuckle.

Winters comes up. His expression weary.

“Ray, how’s your squad?”

“They are fine, Capt. One wounded, no dead. They’ve dug their foxhole over there. Do you have news about Sgt. Randellman, Sir?’

“No, Ray. Bull’s still missing.”

“Well, If there ain't no body, then there ain't nobody dead, Sir.”

Winters smiles “That’s exactly what Guarnere said.”

“Sir, permission to speak?”

“Granted, Sergeant.”

“Why the hell that Limey tanks keep going after Sgt. Martin warned the commander that there’s a German tank hidden in that fence row?”

“Well, according to Martin, the British commander said that he cannot see the German tank. And if he cannot see the German tank, he cannot shoot.”

“That was beyond stupid, Sir.”

Winters only gives a weak smile and nods before leaving.

“I don’t trust these Limeys, Ray.”

Ray sighs, “Yeah? Tell me something new, Doc.”

* * *

 

The overconfidence of the higher ups lead to Easy took the hell of a licking. Everyday Ray convinced that the campaign should change its name to Operation Clusterfuck.

While Easy set up a road block in a cross road in Uden, Winters found one asshole of British tank Lieutenant sit inside a house, with a girl, sipping tea, his tank parked outside. The abovementioned asshole has the ball to ask Winters “Are my tank still outside?” Needless to say, Winter’s reply did not improve Anglo-American relations. That afternoon, the Germans cut the road, and Easy retreated. Again.

Veghel was another story. It was pure fucking hell. Ray spent most of his time hiding from intense Krauts shelling. If not hiding, they sleep in a flooded foxhole, in their raincoat, heads on knees, hoping they can get some sleep before the Krauts decided to shelling them again. Pure. Fucking. Hell.

* * *

 

Ray hates the constant rain. Ray hates digging foxhole every fucking night and then drowns in it. Ray hates the fucking Limeys. Ray hates that it’s almost one fucking year he trapped in this fucking war time.

One fucking year without hearing insults from Brad. One fucking year without singing country song to insult Brad. One fucking year without watching LT. Fick eyefucking with Brad. One fucking year without Walt, Trombley, and Reporter. One motherfucking year.

And still here he is, filthy, tired, and wet like a battered dog. Ray laughs at the thought of that. A battered devil dog. How fitting. For the first time since he’s thrown in this hell of time travel, he starts to lose hope to coming back to his own time.

* * *

 

“Raaay, buddy…Wanna rum?”

“Where the fuck you got that, George?”

“Please don’t underestimate my scrounging ability, mate. My rivals are only Frank and Capt. Nixon”

Ray nods and moves aside so George can hop in to his foxhole.

“Scrounging? More like stealing.”

“Semantics.”

They stay silent for a while, taking turn sipping the rum.

“You look like shit.” That’s George Luz way to ask ‘are you okay’

Ray answers weakly, “Still gonna get more pussy than you.”

George laugh, “Wanna bet?”

“Bet for what?” Bill Guarnere decided to join the pajamas party and crouch outside the foxhole.

“Our pal Ray-Ray here thinks that he will get more pussy than me.”

“Well, Ray, looking at your current state, you are more resemble a dog than a man. So I put my money for George.”

“Fuck off, Bill.”

When he hears no more insults from Ray, Bill raises one of his thick eyebrows. “Wow, just that?“

Ray spends too much time with these guys; they immediately know something wrong with him.

“Listen, Ray. We cannot loose ourselves right now. We’re NCOs. With the fucked up brass we got right now, our men looked up to us. Winters depends on us. He cannot face this shithole alone. We’re Toccoa Men. Remember… Currahee, Ray. We stand alone. We stand alone together.”

“Bill’s right, Ray. Come on, mate. Pull yourself together. I need my sidekick. Do you think I can survive this war with Frank alone? The retarded midget needs his baby sitter back.”

Ray drops his head. His friends need him. His men need him. Even Winters needs him. And if there is something that Ray couldn’t do, it’s to disappoint everyone that depends on him. Until Ray can get out from this clusterfuck of time travel, this will make do. This has to make do.

Steeling himself, Ray says to his friends…no… his brothers, “That’s what I am to you, George? Sidekick? Perco’s baby sitter? And here I am, wishing you to love me and taking me to dinner. Anyway ... thanks … you guys start to grow on me…like fungus”

Bill and George grin at him. “That’s Sergeant Ray Person we know.”

* * *

 


	5. Chapter 5

Ray enters the barn and hollers “Luzy, I’m hoommee. Get your sexy Portuguese bronze ass over here and unlace ma boo…..HOLY FUCK… I mean… Shit…Sorry Sir. Captain Winters, Sir. I didn’t see you.”

Ray mentally slaps his head. Some Recon is he. Okay..next time, before publicly expressing domesticality with Luz, check the surroundings for any officer. Why the fuck Captain Winters must clean his weapon in this barn anyway? Officers have their own room unlike the enlisted, for fuck’s sake. Damn him and his humble character.

The results? The whole barn occupant laugh at him, replacements included. Luz looks like he got Christmas early. Fuck!!

Ray swallows his embarrassment and graciously tries to retreat, “Glad to entertain you gents. Allow me to retreat myself and find Malarkey to woo him with my rendition of Moonlight Serenade.” and salutes the Captain. The Captain nods and still chuckling.

Before he can turn his back, George manages to talk between his laugh “You’re going to cheat on me, Ray?”

Ray gives George the middle finger salute, turn his back and walk toward Malarkey in the back of the barn. He’s playing poker with his minions, Warren ‘Skip’ Muck & Alex Penkala. The red-headed-Irish is still laughing when Ray comes.

“You’re one fucked up hicks, Person.”

“Shut the fuck up, you Mick!! Or I really butcher your fucking favorite song!!” and Rays slumps his ass in the floor.

Thank goodness, the said Mick resumes his poker on the fear his favorite songs being slaughtered with dirty lyrics from Ray.

Ray busies himself by cleaning his M1 rifle. After a full month of spending night in muddy foxhole, he really appreciates the warm and dryness the barn provide. The barn occupants back to their own business and no one doing crazy stunts since the Captain still there sits beside George. George tinker with his radio and sometimes feeding crackers to Talbert’s new found German Shepherd dog, Trigger.

George jinxes the peaceful ambiance by saying that his radio is quiet.

The barn door slams open. Liebgott and Lesniewski are carrying a bloodied soldier. It’s Alley. His face and left side of his body covered with blood. He still conscious but looked like he doesn’t know what happened. Talbert rushes to get Doc Roe, while Lieb and Les bickering about whose fault Alley got wounded. Very mature. Apparently, they have been attacked during their patrol by a group of Krauts at the cross road. Easy Company immediately spring to action; bring only weapon and ammo. Like a well-oiled machine, everyone knows what to do.

Minutes later, at around zero-ass- hour (well, officially it’s 0400 hours), Ray found himself crouching in the dike, waiting Winters’ order to attack a cluster of German soldier in the said crossroad, shooting their MG-42 to God knows where. Kinda looks stupid, actually. It’s like the Krauts say “Here we are gossiping and whatnot in the middle of crossroad, shooting our MG to somewhere out there. Care to shoot us?”

Winters is a certified natural strategist. He efficiently delegating job between mortar (“Don Malarkey & His Minions”), machine gun (“Smokey Gordon & friend”) and rifle (“Ray Person & the Motherfuckers”) squad. And when Easy brings down the party, The Krauts will be fucking sorry. Ooo-rah!!

Needless to say, no gossiping Krauts in the crossroad anymore.

* * *

 

It’s morning now. They now crouching in the ditch, planning to attack a mass of land called the Island. It’s assumed that there is a platoon of Krauts there. Easy must attack them, before they attack Easy. The earlier attack in the crossroad was somewhat successful, but they lost Dukeman. Ray never close to him, but he was a Toccoa man. Another loyal comrade has fallen in this godforsaken war.

Winters divides the men into 3 groups. Ray will lead the center. Winters orders to fix bayonet. Everyone tensed. Winters grab the smoke grenade, says “Go on the red smoke”, inhales, throw the grenade, and runs across the ditch. Alone.

Fuck!! The Captain runs alone in front of them. The seconds they spend waiting for the red smoke appears feels like hours. Frank cannot hold himself and almost runs following Winters if Peacock not shouts to wait.

Finally the red smoke comes out. They run to follow the Captain that already starts shooting. When Ray arrives beside Winters, he can see that the Krauts waiting for them are not the Wehrmacht, the regular army. They are the infamous Schutzstaffel. _The_ SS. The elite. The one that burn Jews for fun. Holy fuck!!

Ray flats his belly to the ground and starts shooting. Everything feels like slow motion. Hoobler besides him; shoots and counts his kills.

One down…two down… three down…

Winters contacts HQ using George’s radio to order artillery attack. And when the artillery starts, the Krauts had no hope. Their once-proud black coat shredded along with its owner. It’s almost dreadful to watch.

* * *

 

Easy has been so fucking lucky. With only 35 men, it turned out they’re facing two companies of 300 SS soldier. Their casualty “only” one dead and 22 wounded, while the Krauts casualties were fifty killed, eleven captured, about 100 wounded. Statistically, this is impressive. Solid proof of Winter’s strategic and leadership ability.

But Ray can see that Winters was stunned. The Captain sits alone watching a dead SS soldier that looked so young, Ray sure that he was only a teenager. A teenage SS. How fucked up is that?!

“Sir, do you need something?”

“No, Sergeant Person. But thank you”

“Permission to speak, Sir?”

“Granted”

“You did a hell of a good job, Sir. You took more risk than any of us. That running alone across the field, Sir? That was pretty fucking nin… I mean…That’s a true leader, in my opinion.”

Winters smiles a little and replies solemnly “Thank you…Ray. I really appreciate it. I can’t do it either without my competent NCOs”

Ray sighs. The Captain always too humble to take the credits for his own. Ray sees Nixon walks toward them so Ray salutes and leaves the Captain alone again.

* * *

 

If Ray feels like a pig shit during the Normandy campaign, he feels a lot worse this time, he can’t describe it himself. When Easy finally recalled from the frontline and reached Mourmelon, it’s been 70 days since their jump in Holland. That’s three time longer than his time in Afghanistan, Iraq or Normandy. The dirt and grime has become his second skin. He’s so filthy, he won’t be surprised if he mutated into Swamp Thing. He wants to marry the shower and clean uniform after that.

They’re supposed to get rest after more than two months grueling their sorry asses in Holland. But they also need physical outlet for their energy and some nonsensical way to release the built-up tension. Ray fully embraces the abovementioned “nonsensical way” by compose dirty poetry or songs with Smokey, rearrange Grab-fanny rules and scoring system with George and Frank, persuade Bill to not visiting Lulu’s (some kind of shitty titty bar) to no avail, pick fight with the 82nd, and annoy people in the movie hall. Life is fucking great.

More sensical (but absolutely no fun) way to spend their energy is by doing marching drill and inspections, led by their new Easy CO, Lt. Norman Dike. This asshole…is the only cloud in the bright blue sky.

See…after the successful attack of the Island, Capt. Winters was promoted into Col. Sink’s XO, so it means Winters will be responsible for whole battalion. Easy lose their dearly beloved Papa Winters. And the feeling is mutual. Winters feels trapped in desk jobs and Ray often sees Winters eyeing Easy men longingly.

Winters’ replacement is Lt. Heyliger. At first, Easy was glad that Heyliger is as near competent as Winters. He’s like the cool uncle for Easy. But, apparently, the universe wants to fuck up with Easy. One nervous replacement baby shoot Heyliger, thought he was a Kraut.

Ergo, Easy stuck with kiss-ass, shit-brained, lazy-ass Dike. On second thought, Ray thinks Dike is actually a genius. Not everyone can make a whole company want to piss in his coffee with only just two weeks leading them. Only Dike can. Just like Sobel and Encino Man, Dike has a permanent “stupid, asshole and proud” written in his forehead.

Maybe this is Ray’s karma for hanging up with Brad. That Giant Hebrew Viking loves to piss off God in the name of his pure-warrior-spirit bullshit. And now, Ray is stuck under fucked-up officer in past and future life.

* * *

 

“Thus, gentlemen…I think we should throw Hitler some pussy. Because the lack of decent pussy in Germany that motivate them to occupy their neighboring country in the first place. Hitler gets laid, he’s happy as a motherfucker, and before you know it, the war is over.”

They’re cleaning their rifle while Ray explains his theory of why Hitler started the war and how to finish it. He repeats, and modified a little, his theory about the cause of US invasion of Iraq he told Brad that feels like ages ago.

“It's lack of pussy that fucks countries up. Lack of pussy is the root fucking cause of all global instability. If more haj…I mean.. Krauts were getting quality pussy, there'd be no reason for us to come over here and fuck 'em up! Cause a nut-bustin' Kraut is a happy Kraut.”

Frank and George slap him in the head.

Bill throws boots at him.

Liebgott tries to burn him with cigarette.

Malarkey and Skip repeatedly making cross across their chest and Ray’s face.

Ray shrugs. Well, it’s worth trying.

“Are you finished with your retarded theory, Ray? I’m fucking sure your Ma drop you right in the head when you were baby.”

“Well…not exactly…she did bump me in the head sometime. At least she feed me the best roadkill in the states.” Ray is satisfied when his friend’s faces looked green.

“Argh I can’t stand it anymore!!” Liebgott throws his hands to the air. Only Webster can rival his ‘Drama Queen’-ness. “George!! Bring this fucked up hicks to the movie hall. I’m sick of his fucking bullshit!! I need to pee.”

“Why me?!”

“Because…I need to pee” Liebgott said that as if pee is the answer of all problems.

“You have to check your goddam bladder before they send us to the front again.” George grumbles and pulls Ray’s collar “Come on, smartass. They’re playing Seven Sinners again. I’ll do John, you’ll do Marlene. Join us, midget?”

“I’m not a midget!!” Frank yells while keep brushing his teeth. How? It’s beyond Ray.

George and Ray have seen the movie countless time (due to the Army is not creative in providing entertainment for them), so they know every dialogue. So obviously, tonight’s objective is to annoy other people. In the movie hall, they ‘strategically’ position themselves behind Toye and Lipton who never watch the movie.

And when George and Ray join forces, behold, even the ever patience Mama Lipton can be pissed. That sort of goes in the “win” column, along with a successful 40 points of Grab-fanny to one respectable officer (long story). Toye is looked murderous, but that’s his default look, so it’s not a big deal. As long as Toye is not using his brass knuckles, they are safe.

However, two officers, that their main job is to ruin all the fun, are entering the hall. The movie stopped and Easy is instructed to move out for their next mission. Apparently, the 1st and the 6th SS Panzer Divisions broke through in Ardennes, a forest in Bastogne, Belgium that’s a strategic crossroad town. They overran America’s 28th lnfantry and the 4th. All passes are canceled. Say goodbye to weekend in Paris and Christmas football game.

Ray vaguely remembers this. In the future, this battle is called the Battle of the Bulge. Hittler’s last offensive strike. He cannot remember the details, such as Easy’ involvement in this battle, but he knows this will be one hell of a battle. He knows a lot of men will be dead. At this point, Ray feels that knowing the future is terrifying. Ray doesn’t want to think which Easy men… which brother will be dead in this battle.

* * *

 

No winter clothing, no waterproofed boots, not enough ammo, limited rations and lead by a stupid ass CO. Easy heading to hold the line in some European forest, during winter, with the abovementioned “support”. Easy is under strength, inadequately clothed, and insufficiently armed. They are also going out blind. They only knew that the Germans had blasted a big hole in the line, that American forces were in full retreat, that someone had to plug the gap, and that particular someone is…drum roll please…the Airborne Corps. Ooo-fucking-rah!!

There was a huge commotion in the barrack before they left Mourmelon. They scrounged and packed anything they can. They even take all canvas of the entire base for additional protection from the winter. Cigarettes, coats, and scarf are most wanted items. Gloves are rare. Ray saw Doc Roe trade his own gloves and scarf for bandages and morphine. That man is seriously never thought of himself.

Instead of plane jump, they’re gonna make tailgate jump tonight. Ray is crammed in a truck with his mates. Skip is explaining the importance of extra socks to a replacement baby (“You need four, minimum. Feet, hands, neck, and balls, extra socks warms them all! Good!! We all remember that, but we didn't remember the socks!”). Liebgott wants to pee again.

George sits beside him, shivering “Ray, I can’t feel my finger. The fuck I supposed to pull my trigger if I can’t feel my finger??”

“Put your arms in your armpit. It’s the warmest place in your body. Right, Doc?” Ray feels grateful for his SERE training. At least it’s more useful here than in the desert.

Doc Roe just nods. He’s searching something in his bag and mumbling something sounds like “goddam sizzuh”, whatever that means.

As usual, George still has doubt of Ray’s competency.

“And you know that because?”

“Do you want to put your arms in your crotch? That’s another warmest place. But it will not be practical.”

“Asshole“

“Goddamit...It’s fucking cold. I don’t think even my dick is still warm.” This is Frank speaking or more like squeaking, actually.

“I don’t know you still have one, Frank. I thought its raisin. Shriveled up from the cold like that.”

Ray survived Frank’s wrath due to the said midget shivering so hard, he cannot move.

* * *

 

Easy is officially and colossally fucked up. When they arrived in Bastogne, Ray feels like he’s in some kind of zombie movies. Hundreds of American soldiers in various states, or what’s left of it, retreating from the forest. The smell, the sight, the soldiers’ voices. It’s like he’s watching Night of the Living Dead in super real 3D.

The retreating soldiers keep telling them to turn around. But not one Easy man gives a fuck to hear that. They start to grabs any ammo from the retreating soldiers. Anything they can scrounge.

They know Winters cannot join them in the front line. He now leads a Battalion. But Winters makes his time to address Easy before they’re heading to their post.

“Gentlemen. We’re going to be surrounded by the Germans and they are hitting hard. But we’re Paratroopers. We’re supposed to be surrounded. Farthest from your mind is the thought of falling back. In fact it isn't there at all. And so…you will dig your hole carefully and deep, and wait, not for that mythical Superman, but for the enemy you had beaten twice before and will again. Besides you, your buddies…you brothers…will also preparing. You know you can depend on them. God bless you. Currahee.”

That night, Ray is one of 145 of Easy Company’s men and Officers entering the forest of Ardennes. Nobody knows how many men will get out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Capt. Winter's speech was modified from Stephen Ambrose's Band of Brothers that quoted The Curahee scrapbook


	6. Chapter 6

War is hell. A freezing cold and bitter hell that is. Every single day is Groundhog Day, just like in Iraq. But instead of sands and the blistering sun, now he deals with snow and potentially frostbitten balls. Ray mentally shouts to any deity out there, why the fuck he has to deal with two extreme conditions? Why can't he thrown back to a peace-time (preferably in the 60s or 70s) Tropical Island with a nude native girl (or more) in his hand.

The activities in Bastogne are always the same. Freezing, fight the Krauts, freezing, holding the line as best as their ass can, freezing your fucking ass, digging foxholes in a freezing soil, freezing, shelled to bits by the Krauts, fucking freezing again, eat Joe Domingo's rancid ass beans, freezing, losing a brother, freezing, try not to lose your mind and back to freezing again. The "try not to lose your mind" part is the most difficult to handle. Especially if you risk your life in the hand of shit-brained and constantly-MIA CO like Dike. Easy has to taking care their own ass.

But even in this epic clusterfuck, some people manage to rise and shine from the shithole. Winters, albeit he has to babysit the whole Battalion, refuse to stay at Battalion HQ in the city, and stay in the front line with the boys, take part in freezing their sorry ass together. He even maintain officer's grooming standard by trying to shave in subzero environment (Winters will be Sixta's poster boy for sure). Nixon always on his side, as a good BFF should be, hooking up regimental office and the front line. Lipton does a splendid job to maintain the morale of Easy men, by embracing his mother hen persona to the fullest. Doc Roe, still without weapon, hop from foxhole to foxhole to check the men's condition and never flinch to patch wounded soldier, even under intense Krauts' fire. But Ray feels the Doc become more withdrawn every day. Luz and Skip compete to make jokes or impersonations (most likely impersonate Dike's various level of retardation). Without they realized, they make the day a little more bearable.

* * *

 

Chow time always give more relaxed atmosphere, if you don't mind the horrible food. Ray sits between George and Frank, eating the famous Joe Domingo's concoction. Ray honestly doesn't want to know the ingredients. As usual, Ray talks and munches at the same time, food splattered everywhere. Bill, sits in front of him, looks appalled. Well, the others too, actually, even the replacement babies.

"Jesus, Ray. Mind your manners, will ya. You're not eating with your fellow pigs."

"Sorry Bill. Got too excited. Yeah… so listen up kids… if it ever crossed in your baby mind, what the fuck are you doing here, freezing your fucking balls to the point of it become crackable…" The guys winced.

Ray continues his rant "…Don't! You'll see the reason why, once we're in Germany. This war is necessary. This war is the motherfucking answer. I'm assured of that." It's nice to imitate Lt. Fick's tagline, Ray feels nostalgic.

And homesick, actually. But he put it in the far corner of his mind. He doesn't want to brood about going back to his time again. It will affect his combat readiness (Shit! Now he thinks like Brad).

Frank scoffs, "Nice speech for an inbreed, Person"

"Yeah? Just look at exhibit A over here, Gentlemen" Ray points to Frank and continues "If Nazi wins and rules the world, do you think our midget friend over here will survive Nazi's medical experiment?"

He ignores Frank's indignant shout and the others' laugh.

"Nice theory, Ray. Are you making this up?" Bill amused.

"Fuck yeah, I'm making this up. It passes the time, brother. I'm bored, you see. Too much time in the foxhole freezing my fucking ass, waiting to be shelled by the Krauts."

"Jesus! Bored Ray. Are there any two more dangerous words to put together?"

"Your Mom" Ray offers

From the corner of his eyes, Ray sees Doc Roe grinning at that, still in his usual place, separate from everyone. Good. Another thing that goes in the "win" column.

Next mission: make Doc join them during chow time. One step at a time.

* * *

 

Babe is closing himself. His friend, a fellow replacement, John Julian, died yesterday. Babe was forced to leave the body in the battle. When they finally brought back his body, Babe couldn't bring himself to look at his friend's corpse.

Ray wants to hump Babe's head, actually. It worked to make Walt speak before. But to prevent any more mental scarring for the kid, Ray will use tamer approach. Hence, he crouches in the edge of the foxhole and hits Babe's helmet with the butt of his rifle.

"Hi, Babe. 'sup?"

"Huh?"

"What's new?"

"Nothing new, Sarge. It's quiet on the other side, don't you think?" He's holding a half-eaten chocolate, but not eating it.

"Hey, don't jinx it! And Babe... unless we're in combat, I've told you to call me Ray. Or the Magnificent One…"

Babe smiles and nods weakly.

"Hey…Is that chocolate? How the hell you got chocolate?"

"Gene gave it to me. Last night. He and Spina stay with me since…since Julian…"

"Yeah...I've heard about him."

"…"

"That's very kind of Doc, gave you chocolate."

"He kinda forced me to eat it."

"Chocolate brings happiness, you know. Reducing stress, blood pressure…stuff like that. Doc really knows his shit. That 's why the Army made him a Medic. Can you imagine if they make me a medic? More people will die due to aneurysm than in combat."

Babe scoffs"That will be disastrous. Yeah…he's a good Medic. But I don't understand why he keeps calling people with their last name. He never calls me Babe, you know. Always Heffron. He even called me Edward once. Only my Ma and the goddamn nun called me Edward."

"Because it'll be easier for him to patch up Private Heffron than to patch up Babe."

"…"

"You see…Doc is purposely distance himself from us. That's fucking stupid, actually, because he keeps giving to us but not receiving any from us. You know what I mean? "

"Yeah…I think I understand. But that's fucked up, Ray. How long he can keep for himself like that?"

Ray shrugs "He's taking care for us all this time. It's time for us to taking care of him. You agree?"

"Agree"

"Come on. It's chow time. If you don't wanna eat that chocolate, give it to me."

"No fucking way. It's from Gene." Babe holds the chocolate in his chest and put it carefully in his breast pocket.

"Huh…got a man crush with our beloved Doc?"

"Fuck you, Ray!"

Later, Babe will always bring food for Doc and forced him to eat in every chow time.

Ray thick "make Doc eat" and "make Babe forget about Julian" in his diary.

* * *

 

It's Christmas Eve. They can hear the Krauts singing Silent Night from their line. Ray huddled in his foxhole with George and Frank. Although they cover the foxhole with tarpaulin and sharing a blanket, they're still shivering from the bitter cold.

"Why the fuck the Krauts is always singing?"

"Just suck it, George. At least it's Christmas song, not that Arnhem Annie bullshit."

"It makes me miss my wife. We never had Christmas together since our wedding in '42, you know. Fucking war" Frank says glumly.

Ray cannot help to feel sorry for his friend. As annoying as he is, Frank is still his closest friend besides George. Ray got to do something to cheer him up.

"Argh… Fuck it! I wanna sing too. All I want for Christmaaaaaass….is toilet papeeeer" Ray sings off-key. Nobody knows Mariah Carey's song anyway.

Ray hears muffled shouts of "Shut the fuck up", "Oh Dear God, not again", "Lord, have mercy", and "Goddammit, Ray!" from other foxholes. The usuals.

"George, honey, I swear to God, I will make you a happy wife if you can give me toilet paper for Christmas. I'll share it with you. Don't you want to decently wipe your ass?"

"I can wipe my ass just fine. And for the hundredth time, Ray; I ain't queer."

"Whatever. I even kiss Hitler if he gives me one."

"You cheap asshole"

"Come on, George. You gave Malarkey cigarettes. You even gave Doc Roe morphine; he looks like want to kiss you. What Jolly Old Saint Luz gives to Ray-Ray and Frankie this Christmas? I've been good boy, Sir. Shooting Krauts and shit."

"Do you think I will give you guys…my best friends…just toilet paper for Christmas? You insult my generosity… and scrounging ability, Ray."

"Stealing ability" Ray corrects.

"Semantics"

George rummages his backpack and grabs three rings. He gives one each to Ray and Frank.

"You want to propose to me, George? You have to down on one knee to make it proper. Because down with two knees means you're gonna give me a blowjob."

"Fuck, Ray! I want to give you guys a token of our friendship! I made it back in Mourmelon. It's from bullets Ask some supply and workshop staffs. It costs me two Lugers and ten packs of cigarettes, you dipshit!"

It has an engraving on it. _GL RP FP '44_

The ring is made from a .30cal bullet. The bullet for their M1 rifle. It's roughly made, but Ray doesn't care. This is officially the best gift he ever had. He feels ashamed he didn't prepare anything for George and Frank.

He tries to make his voice steady when he talks again "Jesus, George. This…this is great. Thank you. Sorry I don't have anything for you."

"No worries, buddy. I'm the Jolly Old Saint Luz. I give, not take." George smiles sincerely.

Ray takes off his dog tag chain and then put the ring on it.

"You won't wear it?"

"Nope" Ray wears his dog tag chain again, now with an addition of a ring. "Won't risk it if Krauts cut my finger"

Frank follows him. Put the ring to his dog tag.

"Brothers forever?"

Ray doesn't care if it sounds cheesy. He never guesses he will find brothers in this clusterfuck of time travel. This brotherhood is the one that keeps him insane. The one that keeps him to stay the fuck alive so he can back to his time.

George and Frank nod "Brothers forever."

* * *

 

Bastogne, 26 Dec 1944

Hi, Gramp.

If you confused why my entry before this is only consist of lists, it's because I don't have much time to write much. Since we're entering the wood, I will be super lucky if I can shit properly, let alone make a proper entry in your diary.

There's nothing much to write, actually. The activities are repetition of dig, wait, freeze, shit, and shelled. But we hold the line as ordered.

I have a coat and scarf now. The fog has been thinned on Dec 23, so the planes can drop us supply. But if our plane could see us, it means the German could see us too. So, the Krauts' Christmas present for us was …guess what… another shelling from the _Luftwaffe_.Aw-fucking-some.

Honestly, Gramp, I'm fucking scared. All the officers are replacements. Unexperienced replacements. There were no original Toccoa officers remaining in Easy. All had been kill, wounded or transferred to battalion or regimental staff. It's up to us, NCOs, to hold the thing together. Can you imagine the clusterfuckness? We're far more experienced than our superior, and our number is decreasing.

I think Lipton is very much aware of this, so he took after Winters, babysitting Easy. He's a mother hen already, so it's natural for him. I did the same for my men. I think it's the only think I can do to keep me and my men sane.

Gotta go, Gramp. I have Recon patrol with Capt. Nixon. It's funny I have to do recon here as a Paratrooper, but I was a Humvee driver and RTO as a Recon Marine in Iraq. Maybe this is God's way to fuck with me.

Love,

Ray

* * *

 

"How's the patrol?"

"Same...I saw trees and snow."

"Smartass"

"What do you expect? It's still the same. Our line is as thin as Kraut's line. Oh...and I wrote USA with my piss. Gotta mark your territory, mate."

"Jesus! You're disgusting."

"I make a pledge to wrote USA with my piss in every foreign soil I stepped on"

"Remind me not to take yellow snow cone from you."

"I'll take that under advisement. Hey George...do you believe in time travel?"

"You mean like H.G. Welsh's Time Machine?"

"Not exactly. More like you dead in the future and become somebody else in the past, like become your grandpa."

"And what? You married your grandma and becoming grandpa for yourself? That's fucking sick"

"Christ, George! I'm thinking that I can go back to my time before I even have to meet my grandma."

"Your time?"

 _Oh, Shit._ "Well...um...I'm thinking to write a science fiction after all of this fuckness is over. It's about a Marine that thrown back in time and become his grandpa, an Army Paratrooper."

"Huh...that's why you write in your diary?"

"Yeah...more or less. So?"

"Well, I'm not really a fan of science fiction. You should ask Liebgott. He loves comics, stuff like that. But I do curios what will happen in the future. What the girls be like? What the music be like?"

" Ha..the girls will have tits so big that defying gravity and their clothing will be less, thanks to global warming. Meanwhile the music will be much awesome than today's music. Country music will rule the world."

"Defying gravity? What...like a balloon?"

"More like cantaloupe."

"Yikes...that's scary. What is country music?"

"It'll be like cowboy music but much awesome."

"I still don't get it. Your imagination is so fucking wild, Ray."

"Let me amused you, my bronze-assed friend. In the future, the music will have so many genres. There's punk, rock, rap, country, pop. More variety."

"Okay...okay...give me one example."

"You want me to sing?"

"Because I want to see how fucked up your mind, Ray, imagining the future so detail like that."

Ray is tempted to sing 'Mammas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys' but he doesn't want George to be mentally scarred. So he sings Greenday's Time of Your Life instead. The lyrics seem relevant for his situation.

 _Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road_  
_Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go_  
_So make the best of this test, and don't ask why_  
_It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time_

 _It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right,_  
_I hope you had the time of your life._

 _So take the photographs, and still frames in your mind_  
_Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time_  
_Tattoos and memories and dead skin on trial_  
_For what it's worth it was worth all the while_

 _It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right,_  
_I hope you had the time of your life._

"Ray, that's...really a good song. You write that?"

"No. That's Time of Your Life, by Greenday."

"Ray, are you trying to tell me something?"

"Will you believe me if I say that I come from year 2003? That I'm a Marine that stuck in my Gramp's body"

"..."

"You know what...just forget it. Not enough sleep can fucked up your mind, or in my case, enhanced it's ability to create a detailed imagination of the future of music."

"Ray...I believe you."

"What?"

"That's explains a lot, I think. You've been different since that jump in England. Me and Perco thinks that double smack did something to your personality. But apparently...it's because you're a different person."

"Yeah...I really am a different person. I'm Corporal Josh Ray Person of Marine Corps' 1st Reconnaissance Battalion. I was deployed in Iraq in 2003 when I was thrown in my Gramp's body."

"I should call you Joshie now?"

"Fuck! I hate that name. Just call me Ray. Nobody call me Joshie and survive for the next 5 minutes."

"How do you think you can back to your time?"

"I have no fucking idea."

"You have us, Ray. We'll figure it out."

"..."

"So...tell me more about this magnificent gravity-defying tits and those less clothing thing."

"Of all the thing you can ask about the future, you want to know about the tits and women's state of dress? You, my friend, is not a disappointment. So listen up for 'Girl clothing 101' by Professor Ray-Ray"

And that night, Ray explains to George the scientific correlation between the decrease in size of women panties and the global warming.


	7. Chapter 7

Two Italians jump into a foxhole. Ray’s foxhole. Ray freaks out a little bit, momentarily thinks that he’s mobbed by the mafia in some Godfather movie scene. But it’s Gonorrhea and Midget. So Ray can calm himself.

“George told us. Is that true? You from future?”

“Like you motherfuckers will believe me.”

“You won’t lie for something that serious.”

“So that’s true?” Frank asks while he’s preparing his toothbrush and toothpaste. Ray can’t believe the sight.

“Really, Frank? You have to brush your fucking teeth right now?”

“We just eat! You must brush your teeth after you eat.”

“Ray…focus...you from future?”

“Yeah…but do not…I repeat…do not tell anyone. I don’t want they sent me to aid station for ‘alleged hallucinating’ and then they sentenced me with ‘battle fatigue’” Ray use a lot of quotation mark with his hand within that sentence.

At this time, U.S. Army use the following flow chart: Soldier shows symptom of combat stress reaction --> the soldier diagnosed with battle fatigue ­­--> the said soldier are accused for cowardice or attempts to avoid combat duty --> the soldier will be tried by court-martial -->the particular soldier’s ass is fucked (metaphorically and probably literally). Even the notorious General Patton blatantly “forbade battle fatigue” in his Army.

Bill pats his shoulder “We got your back, buddy.” Frank nods while brushing his teeth.

Bill’s ‘We got your back’…Brad’s ‘I got your six’… different words but has same meaning. Albeit Ray’s apparent no filter between his brain and mouth, Ray always surrounded with people who support him unconditionally.

“Thanks, homes.”

“Homes?”

“That’s like ‘buddy’ or ‘mate’. In the future we use ‘homes’, ‘dawg’, sometimes ‘brah’”

“Sounds retarded.” Frank finally finishes his brushing.

“Word to the motherfuckin’ street, yo! It ain’t retarded. It’s fucking cool, man.”

“You sound demented.” Bill deadpanned.

“What-the fuck-ever, homes. So yeah I’m from the future. I'm Corporal Josh Ray Person of Marine Corps' 1st Reconnaissance Battalion. I was deployed in Iraq in 2003 when I was thrown in my Gramp's body. Ta daaa” Ray gestures the ta-daaa-hands.

“Then you can’t call me midget!! I’m your Gramp’s friend!! Show some fucking respect, kid!!”

“Can you respect this midget while he got a fucking toothbrush surgically attached in his hand?” Ray asks Bill.

Bill appraised Frank for a moment then answers dryly “Good point.”

They spend the rest of their limited free time talking bullshit and teasing Frank. But neither of them asks Ray about the outcome of the war, or worse, ask who will be dead. Because, honestly, Ray is freaking out about the future.

* * *

 

“Sergeant Person, you will accompany Capt. Nixon again for reconnaissance patrol tonight. Take two men to guard you.”

“Yes, Sir. Can I ask why I should do this again, Sir? I’m not an S-2.”

“Capt. Nixon speaks highly of your recon skill, Ray. I don’t know how, but it looks like you have trained of this before. Your recon report two days ago contributes greatly for last night fight in the eastern line. We need your report before we move to the woods overlooking Foy.”

 _Because I’m a motherfucking Recon Marine, Sir. Ooo-Rah!!_ “Roger that, Sir”

“Ray, one more thing. Capt. Nixon considers transferring you to S-2. What do you think?”

“Permission to speak freely, Sir.”

“Granted”

“Thank you, Sir. Not that I’m not grateful, but who will take care of my minion…Sorry, I mean…my men, Sir. If I can conclude from our recon patrols, we’re planning to attack Foy anytime soon. With all due respect, I’m not confidence with our CO. Our officers are not experienced for this, Sir. Lt. Peacock can’t even read the map. Lt. Shames keeps yelling like he’s in some kind of war movie. You’ll need all your experienced NCO to make this works. Thank you for Capt. Nixon’s and your trust in me, Sir. But I will stay with my men. At least until you can kick Lt. Dike’s ass...Sir”

Winters smiles “You’re very… observant, Ray. But I trust you not to share your personal feelings to our men. They need morale boost. I’m sure you understand this. Just between you and me, we share the same…opinion…about our officers. I will pass your concern to Capt. Nixon. Thank you for your effort, Sergeant. That will be all.”

“Yes, Sir”

“Oh…Sorry, Ray. One more thing. Who’s turn for patrol this afternoon?”

“I think it’s Hoobler, Christenson & Hashey’s turn, Sir.”

“Thank you, Ray. Tell the boys I’ll join them for lunch.”

Ray nods and salutes the Captain.

Winters looks weary. But at least Ray has told his concern. Ray knows Winters’ hands are tied. Dike is a favorite of somebody at Division. Even if Easy has one experienced combat leader, Winters cannot replace Dike. The men now depended on the NCOs and only few capable officers. But even Buck shows some sign of ‘weirdness’ since he got shot in Holland. More serious and jumpy.

The morale of Easy Company has hit the all-time low. Constant shelling from the Krauts already gives several soldiers signs of PTSD (or shell shocked they said). Added with incapable officers and limited ammunition, Easy’s confidence is deteriorating.

* * *

 

Two days later, Ray says quietly to Lipton on his side ”Swear to God, Lip. If I see Dike yawning again, I’ll shove my fucking boots and my used-ass-wipe to his fucking throat. Or maybe shove a cattle prod up to his ass so he can wake the fuck up for once. That son of a bitch mouth is like a fucking black hole; sucks everything around him, including hope.”

Lipton tries to stifle his laugh. In Ray’s other side, Buck’s shoulder also shaking with barely-contained laughter. Bill, walking in front of him, lowers his head and shaking his head slowly. Ray can only see his back, but Ray is assured that Bill is grinning.

They are walking back from receiving Dike’s “instruction for today”, which is completely and utterly full of bullshit, according to Ray. What’s the point of gathering Easy’s officers and NCOs to announce that he will be “called away regularly to Battalion S3” and to use “as per usual” formation for the patrol?? The fuck??!! Ray wants to slap the lieutenant silly so the said asshole can make a decent command for once. The son of a bitch even didn’t mention Hoobler’s death.

Buck says in mock prayer “Dear Lord, give me strength to fight alongside this sorry excuse of a redneck.”

“That’s fucking hurt, LT. You prefer to follow Dike’s bullshit command, than to fight alongside this death-dealing, blood-crazed warrior who wakes up every day just hoping for the chance to dismember my enemies and defile their civilizations. Okay then. Your loss.”

“Ha! Warrior my ass….”

“Shut it, Bill!! You’re just jealous. My warrior aura can beat your skinny ass anytime.”

“Ladies…please shut the fuck up. Just…do our job …okay?”

“Sorry Momma Lipton. Please don’t spank me.”

“Raaay”

“Okay…okay…you know…we’re already idiots who volunteered to jump out of a perfectly good airplane, but going on combat patrol looking for a fight…it’s the worst, I tell you.”

“Yeah…well…it has to be done, Ray.”

“At least we’re moving and not in the fucking foxhole freezing our balls.”

“Bill, I would rather freeze my balls off rather than risk my life doing patrol without any good plan. There is no valuable information and strategy from that motherfucker Mister Indecision. I have to conclude that the only Ivy Leaguers, who is not a dicksuck, is only Nixon.”

“Save your bitching for later, Ray. Look, gents…We’ll do anything we can. Okay? So here’s the plan. We’ll go to the east side of the wood through the logging road. Bill, your squad on the right. Lip’s on left. Ray, you’re center with me. Each squad will form a column of twos; send out two scouts on point. Call your squad. We're leaving in 5 minutes.”

“Roger that, LT.”

Ray walks toward his boys and whispers to himself “Here we go again. Move out. We’re Oscar Mike.”

* * *

 

“Ray, you’re coming?”

“For what?”

“Don’t you hear? Peacock’s leaving. We’re going ‘congratulate’ him.” George use the quote sign when said congratulate.

“No shit!! Really?”

“Yup. Nixon gave up his 30-days furlough to the States. He said that this will solve Easy’s leadership problem by give it to other officer that Winters wants to remove.”

“And they choose Peacock. Ooo…I wanna kiss Nixon.”

“Yeah…get in the line.”

“So we’re saying farewell to Peacock now? Where?”

“CP. Come on now.”

Ray and George walks to the CP. When they arrived, Peacock has been surrounded by the other officers and NCOs.

Bull taps Peacock’s shoulder “Congratulations, Lt. Peacock. I can’t think of anybody who deserves this more.”

George grins “Really glad that you’re going home”. Ray declares that George should be nominated for Academy Award.

Christenson adds with “Best news I’ve ever heard in weeks. Hell of a guy.”

Ray bites his tongue to prevent him laugh out loud. Seriously, Easy men are fucking great actors.

Peacock, completely misunderstanding, naïve and oblivious as usual, blushing and grins “Thanks, guys. I mean, it really means a lot, you know?”

Bull cuts him “Stop, get outta here. Three cheers to Lt. Peacock.”

When they say three “Hip, hip, hooray” for Lt. Peacock, Ray can’t stop a shit-eating-grin on his face.

After Peacock finally gone (Lt. Foley replaced him), Ray goes back to his foxhole but runs into Nixon and Winters. Both with their hand on their mouth, obviously holding back grins.

“With all due respect, Sir. But shame on you.” Ray says to them, grinning ear to ear.

Nixon has the audacity to feign innocence and says “What did I do?”, but his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Winters can’t hold it anymore and openly laugh.

* * *

 

23 days in Normandy + 78 days in Holland + 15 days in Bastogne = 116 days of Easy Company had spent in the front line.

But the last 15 days in Bastogne is a test for everyone’s endurance. Mentally and Physically. For some people, it’s the last straw.

15 days of constant tension, sleep deprivation, limited ammunition, hunger and harsh winter.

Grim Reaper and Misery are feasting in Bastogne in the last 15 days.

And January 3rd 1945 is officially the worst day of Ray’s fucked up life.

The worst thing of being shelled is the feeling of hopelessness. You can’t do anything about it. Just make yourself as small as possible in your foxhole. If you made it to your foxhole. If the mortar does not directly fall to your foxhole. If the mortar does not blow up the trees above your foxhole and showered you with splinters and shrapnel so big, it can kill in instant. If you don’t see you friend blown up in front of you.

And it all happened on January 3rd. It’s the worst shelling Easy has endured in war so far.

Ray is familiar seeing dead body. Civilians and comrades alike. He had seen a little girl corpse without legs, another little girl corpse with a bullet hole in her head and a headless man in the middle of Baghdad road. But all those time, he’s able to convince himself that those corpses are inevitable victim of war; collateral damage that has no relationship whatsoever with him.

But when he heard Buck’s desperate scream for Medic and then saw Joe Toye’s and Bill Guarnere’s mangled bodies in front of him, his mind goes blank with unexplainable pain. They are not just comrades. They are his brother.

Both are still alive, but most likely they’ll lose their legs.

Bill holds his shattered legs and says “Hey, Lip. They got Ol’ Guarnere this time. And what did you said before, Ray…FUBAR? I’m FUBAR now, right?”

Ray’s voice is hoarse when he finally has the strength to talks “You are FUBAR BUNDY, homes. Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition, But Unfortunately Not Dead Yet.”

Bill manages a shaky laugh “I’ll see you in States, buddy. Maybe our grandchildren can hang out together sometimes.” And the badass Italian fucking winks.

A wounded soldier consoles a perfectly fine soldier.

Ray desperately fights the urge to cry. He vaguely feels George’s hand in his shoulder.

“He’s gonna be okay Ray. You’re gonna be okay. You will go back home alive. And you know why I’m assured of this.”

Ray nods. Perfectly understand he will go back home alive, but he will not be a man he was before.


	8. Chapter 8

All soldiers that had reached their breaking point always did the same gesture. They slam their helmet down, messes up their hair, dazed that thousand-yard stare and walk away. You can talk all you want, but they couldn’t hear you.

Buck did the same. After months of combat and seeing Toye and Guarnere severely wounded, he had enough. He walked away. George tried to chase, repeatedly saying “Don’t leave us, Buck”, “Sir, we need you”, but Buck only shake his head, walked to aid station leaving George helpless. And the sight of one George Luz being helpless was depressing.

Nobody blame Buck, though. He’s the only experienced officer they had. With Dike MIA to battalion HQ every now and then, Buck is Easy’s last hope and he aware of that weight of responsibility. He had stood up to everything the Germans had thrown at him. But the sight of his platoon being wiped out and his two friends mangled, unnerved him. Who doesn’t?

In just minutes, Easy had lost two of their most valuable NCO and the last experienced officer. All three are from 2nd Platoon.

And where is shithead Dike when this fuckness happened?

As soon as the shelling started, he instructed Lipton to “take charge of the Company” while the said asshole returned to headquarter “looking for help” (as told by George, complete with the stellar impersonation of the particular dumbass).

Ray never saw Winters that furious. But the Captain cannot do anything with Dike. Winters cannot sack Dike although Ray generously offers his service to kill (or at least apply a bitch slap) that dumbass, free of charge. Ray cannot help to realize that, for a 27 year old man, Winters looks so much older in a very short time. Perhaps it’s because he’s doing the job of a major while still a captain.

* * *

 

With Buck leaving, all Easy platoon leaders are replacement officers. Foley as 1st Platoon leader is okay, so much better in tactical and leadership skill than Peacock, but he’s not experienced in leading to combat. And 2nd Platoon is having serious leadership crises.

So two days after the shelling, Winters and Nixon called Ray, Malarkey and Lipton for a private conversation in the woods behind battalion CP.

“Gents, I believe you are aware of our situation regarding our junior officers and company commander.”

“With all due respect, Sir, my offer still applies. We can hide Dike’s body in the wood. Nobody will know. Hell...everyone will consider us hero if we do that.”

Nixon snorts. Winters pinched the bridge of his nose, smiling.

“Thank you, Ray. But we don’t need such…ah… drastic action.”

Ray shrugs. At least he tries.

Lipton says “But you aware that Lieutenant Dike is going to get a lot of E Company men killed, Sir?"

It’s not a question. It’s a statement.

Winters looks at Nixon. Nixon nods for encouragement.

“That’s why we call you here. Sergeant Person, I promote you to Technical Sergeant for 1st Platoon. As a Platoon Sergeant, your duty now is to give advice to your platoon leader.”

Ray stammered a “Thank you, Sir” when Winters gives him his new badge. In 2003’s Army, Technical Sergeant (renamed Sergeant First Class since 1948) is equal to Gunnery Sergeant in Marine Corps. Ray’s gonna be a Gunny!! So he will be Lt. Foley’s BFF from now on (and of course provide mentoring and tactical advice, shit like that). Just like Gunny Wynn to Lt. Fick. Awe-fucking-some!! Ray does his winning dance in his head.

“Sergeant Malarkey, as Platoon Sergeant for 2nd Platoon, you will lead 2nd Platoon from now on. If I request for replacement officer for Buck now, the Army would sent replacements just over from the States, after completing a hurry-up training program.”

Malarkey nods “Understand, Sir.”

“And 1st Sergeant Lipton, regarding our company commander, you know my opinion and my options about this. As our most senior NCO, I’m sure you already know what you have to do.” Winters…subtle as always.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Gentlemen, I have a complete trust in you to hold our men together. That’ll be all. Hang tough.”

Ray, Malarkey and Lipton nod together and say in unison “Yes, Sir”.

* * *

 

“Hola, Perconte. Look who’s your new boss!! Oh…hey…Luzzy…didn’t see you there.”

“Aw..shit!! You got promoted Ray?!”

“Fuck yeah, Brother!! Finally the Captain sees my true warrior spirit. What you guys doing?”

“Fixing the radios. Gimme the screwdriver, Frank.”

“Did the Captain got smack in the head or sumtin’? The hell you got promoted?”

“Frank, sweetums, Foley needs guardian angel. Put him on the right track and shit. I’m a fucking seasoned veteran, homes. That’s why Winters promote me.”

“Guardian angel my ass. And I’m supposed to trust you to give ‘tactical advice’ to my platoon leader in a combat?”

“I’m a fucking Recon Marine, asshole. A swift, silent and deadly devil dog. And when will you acknowledge my superb leadership, Frank? We’ve been in the same platoon since England. Or Toccoa it you consider my Gramp.”

“That’s exactly why.” Frank mumbles.

“And 2nd platoon?”

“Malarkey takes the lead, George.”

“No officer?”

“It’s better than another fresh graduate officer.”

“Foley is a replacement officer, Ray.”

“I know, George. Though Foley just join us since Bastogne, but lucky for us, he’s okay enough. What if the replacement officer for 2nd platoon turned up to be like that chickenshit Dike? Winters didn’t want to take that risk, especially if we want to attack Foy soon.”

“Malarkey is good, George. Don’t worry. Your platoon is in the right hand.”

“Yeah, I know that, Frank. I’m not against Malarkey. His ‘luck of the Irish’ does well for him so far. But do you realize that he never seriously wounded? It makes him always in the front line since Normandy. I just hope he’s not gonna snapped like Buck.”

“He won’t, George. I got a feeling that he won’t like Buck.”

“Yeah…Ray’s right. Malark got Muck and Penk to support him. Those three are like joined in hip or something.”

“But as long as we got a certain dickhead as our CO, we’re still screwed.”

“True that, George. True that.”

George suddenly slams his screwdriver “Shit…Frank… your radio worked? I don’t know what’s wrong with mine. I’ve checked everything.”

“Mine’s working well.”

“Have you checked the mic, George?”

“Mmm…no. It won’t start, so why I should check the mic?”

“It might get frozen from condensation. You know…from our breath. Next time, make sure you don’t talk directly to the mic.”

George raised his eyebrows.

Ray sighs…his friends always underestimate his genius “Look…in my time, I’m the best damn RTO in my platoon, you fucker. I know about this shit.”

George opens the mic and…voila…there’s a layer of ice on the thing.

“Joshie Ray … You’re godsend!!”

“I fucking told you… don’t call me Joshie!!”

* * *

 

Days after that are consists of playing assistant/mentor for Foley, in addition of helping Lipton playing mother hen to Easy men. Ray glad that he and Foley are in the same wavelength when Foley semi-cursing when Dike was “missing” again right before a patrol. And when Foley laugh at Ray’s comment (“What do you expect, Sir? That certain dickhead is a mutant love child of one _menage a trois_ between a donkey, a chicken and an ostrich”), Ray officially stamps Foley’s forehead with a “Stupid-free Officer”.

On January 9, Easy finally cleared the U-shaped woods around Foy. Since they arrived in Bastogne, they repeatedly hold the line and pushed the German further back, albeit the shelling and German’s Panzer fashion show. And now…It’s time to repay, motherfucker!!

But the Germans apparently never really completely surrender either.

The first shell came when Ray’s foxhole in only half finished. He fell flat in his belly, hands on his helmet. A shell dropped next to his foxhole, sent gust of hot wind that blows him into a tree. Shit!! That was danger close. His shoulder and upper arm hurts like hell but fortunately no broken bone or dislocation. It’s gonna be a nasty bruise later.

Sick of this clusterfuck, Ray shouts in the top of his lung “Come-the- fuck-on!! Fucking surrender already, you asshole!!!“

The shelling stops as soon as it started. A horrible scream of “Medic! Help!” rang out. It’s George’s.

A voice in Ray’s head screaming “No, no, no, no. Shit!! No…Not George. Please not him.”

* * *

 

George was in the open when the shelling started. Muck and Penkala were shouting to him to jump into their foxhole. So when the shell directly hit their foxhole, George saw it.

When Ray arrived, George was digging frantically in Muck and Penkala’ foxhole. Babe besides him looking up, hoping that Muck or Penkala blown up into the trees. But there’s nothing. Not in the foxhole, or in the trees. They only found some pieces of bodies and a part of a sleeping bag. And a piece of Muck’s rosary.

Ray and Frank have to drag George from the foxhole.

“They want me to jump into their foxhole. They’re still in there, Ray. Help me dig. Please, help me dig.”

It breaks Ray’s heart to seeing George like this.

“No, George. They’re gone. You saw it. They took direct hit. Let it go, George.”

“George…here, buddy…here…have a smoke.”

“Malarkey…where’s Malarkey. I have to tell him. Muck’s rosary. Gotta give it to him.”

Even in his distress, George Luz still taking care of other people.

“George, Lipton will take care of it. Just smoke, okay? You got me and Frank.”

George finally sits down and receives Frank’s cigarettes. His hand still shaking.

“Malarkey…I hope…I hope he’s gonna be okay. He nearly shot himself, you know? After Hobbler died. He told me. We can’t lose him. Not after Buck.”

Shit!! Ray doesn’t know about this. Loosing Hoobler and now his best friends, Muck and Penkala, Malarkey must be very traumatized.

“Don’t worry about him, George. I’ll talk to Lipton. He knows how to handle this. Just…just try to calm down, okay? Frank, you stay with George. Give him chocolate. I know you have it. If you don’t, ask Doc. After the adrenalin back to normal level, his blood sugar will be dropped drastically. Chocolate will make him feel better a little bit until chow time.”

As he walks, looking for Lipton, Ray silently pray to who-the-fuck-ever cares. To bring him home. To keep him save. To get him out from this freezing hell. He is no longer able to see his friends being shredded to pieces.

“I’m Corporal Josh Ray Person. I’m a Recon Marine. I have friends. Brad Colbert. Nate Fick. Walt Hasser. James Trombley. Reporter what-his-name. Poke. Fruity Rudy. I’m in Bravo 2. I have to go home. I have to go home.”

Ray repeatedly says that in his mind like a mantra. The only thing that make him sane.

* * *

 

Capturing Foy is not the real objective; Noville and the higher ground are. But to capture Noville, they need tank support. And tank needs roads. Ergo, Foy it is.

It will be a simple but brutal operation. All they have to do is to run for 200m across an open, snow-covered field, down into the village, where every window on the said village either has a sniper or a machine gun. Oh…don’t forget about the 88s and other armored weapons and tanks. And the Krauts will be snugly covered with brick-and-mortar protection. Convenient.

Winters appoint Easy to lead assault. The orders from him are simple: at 0900 hours, get across the field as quick as possible. At the briefing, Winters explains the order with simple language to Dike as if the asshead is a toddler. Dike nods sleepily and yawns. Foley has to restrains Ray so Ray doesn’t walk toward the said dumbass to deliver a bitch slap. So Ray reverts to beat his head repeatedly against the nearest tree. Foley commiserated by patted his back.

Ray whispers “Sir, please remind me to fed Dike to fucking Kraut prisoner after this clusterfuck is over.”

Foley sniggers “Will do, Sergeant. Will do. Let’s tell the boys about the plan, okay?”

So this is the plan: Winters will place two machine guns from HQ section in the edge of the forest to provide covering fire. 1st platoon, led by Foley, will covering the left flank. They will come on area with shacks, cow pens, scattered trees and some haystacks. They will maintain the formation while securing those shacks and other small outbuilding. That’s the general idea. Sounds pretty much easy.

The first five minutes or so is going great. They maintain a tight formation and moving in a good pace. Ray is clearing a shack when suddenly he hears Dike ordered them to stop. In the middle of the field. Just because the stupid ass cannot see Foley and the 1st platoon. So, the peanut brain of his think that 2nd and 3rd platoon must also stop and join him gossiping behind a haystack.

As soon as the 1st platoon able to caught up, Foley ran to Dike for order, while the rest of them take cover in anything that can cover their sorry ass.

FUCKING STUPID SON OF A BITCH!! YOU MAKE US FUCKING SITTING DUCKS!!! MAY YOUR ROTTEN PEANUT OF A BRAIN GOT BLOWN UP AND YOUR ASS BEING FED TO THE KRAUTS!!!

Ray has to breathe several times to stop thinking in capital letters. Acting like a bitch with PMS is so not helping for team morale. He faintly hears Winters shouting from the edge of the forest, ordering them to move forward.

From Ray’s position behind the shack, he can see Foley’s face getting more and more agitated while talking with Dike. And when Foley is back to them, Ray hears the most ridiculous order he ever heard.

“Lieutenant Dike orders the 1st platoon on a wide flanking movement to the left, circle the village and launches an attack from the far side. Dike said he was keeping the platoon's mortar and machine-gun men with him, to provide suppressing fire.”

The only thing than come out of Ray’s mouth are “The fuck??”

But no time to argue. They only have minutes to plan the route.

* * *

 

Ray lost five men in the attack. He can easily blame it all to Dike. Five men in Ray’s responsibility, five men that depend on him for their life, wasted their young life (some of them are teenager, even not old enough for buying beer) in a snow-covered field. It feels worse than to losing your friend.

Ray’s hand is shaking when collecting their dog tags. He will give them to Lt. Speirs, so the new appointed Easy CO can write “consolation” letters for the dead soldiers’ family.

Ray vaguely remembers the fight since Dike ordered them to attack from the far side. Ray remembers he runs from tree to tree, from shack to shack, led his boys while pinned down by snipers and machine guns. He remembers he couldn’t move further. One replacement baby died in front of him, a bullet between his eyes.

Then he remembers Frank inform him that Speirs has relieved Dike and taking over the assault. Seconds later he saw Speirs run across the field and then run directly through the German line toward the I company, and ran back. After that, 1st platoon able to move again.

Easy won the test of will. They had taken Foy. But not without with the unnecessary cost of life due to shithead command.

“Lieutenant Speirs, Sir.”

“Sergeant Person is it?”

“Yes, Sir. Here are my platoon’s casualty dog tags. We have five dead, two wounded.”

“Thank you, Sergeant. But you should give it to Sergeant Lipton, he’s helping me doing the administration.”

“Will do, Sir. Permission to speak, Sir?”

Speirs only nods. His face icy as ever, he reminds Ray of Brad.

“We’re lucky Winters appointed you to replace Dike or maybe we will have more casualties. Finally Easy has a good leader.”

“You and Lipton also did a good job, Sergeant. From what I’ve heard from the men.”

“It’s our job, Sir. With a dickass as a CO, what else can we do? Someone has to unfuck the situation.”

Speirs lift one of his eyebrows. A little amused, Ray thinks.

“One more thing, Sir. That run across the German line thing… Seriously… That was the motherfucking best.” Ray grins.

Speirs gives his rare smile, that honestly, a little bit unsettling “Glad I can entertain you, Sergeant.”

“You damn right, Sir. It’s gonna be a legend. So…um…I’ll go check on Perconte. His ass got shot. That’s kinda Easy’s tradition, Sir. Getting shot in the ass and went AWOL from hospital. Just so you know. Welcome to Easy, Sir.”

Speirs smiles again, a little bit warm this time, and nods “Thank you for the notification, Sergeant.”


	9. Chapter 9

Apparently, they have to occupy a tiny village of Cobru and then Recogne before they can reach Noville. And to reach Cobru, they have to across a 2 kilometers of open and snow-covered field (again), in a bright sunny day. In Colonel Sink’s words to Winters, “2nd Battalion would have the honor of leading the attack on Noville”. Which of course can be translated as “Easy is the spearhead. Now get it done!”

Woo-hoo… talk about de ja vu.

But thank you the almighty deity above, Easy got Winters AND Speirs now. They took advantage of a fairly deep shoulder running southwest out of Noville to near Recogne. Winters put the battalion in single file to cut through the snow, dangerous but quick. Meanwhile, Speirs set up two machine-guns to covering themto dash across a small stream. By night, they finally worked their way to the southeast corner of Cobru.

And that night is most fucking cold night of Ray’s miserable life.

They had worked up a sweat getting to Cobru and now their clothes are fucking freezes, it crackles when they move. There are no trees to protect them from the wind. They sleep in a shallow foxhole, because the soil is frozen. No shelter at all and it’s fucking snowing.

“The fuck are we doing here, Ray? I thought after we got Foy, we will get some roof. I’m sick being in the front line.”

“Ike wants some action, Monty wants some action, Taylor wants some action, Sink wants some actions, Winters screwed, Speirs screwed, thus us screwed. That’s the logic, George.”

“Shit!! Frank and Bill are lucky.They got warm bed in the hospital. Bill might be in hospital in Paris by now, waiting for flight home. And Frank is brushing his teeth while his ass is being wipe by a hot nurse. While here we are, in who-the-fuck-cares-where;freeze our sorry asses in a foxhole again.”

“At least we got Speirs. No more retarded command from now. Try some shut eye, George. Save your pissy-bitch-in-PMS mood for tomorrow. There are some Krauts in Noville, and they can’t wait to pamper us with their 88s and Panzers.”

“That will be a helluva treat.”

“Mm hmm”

“You know, Ray…Not trying to be sappy and all that, but you matured a lot lately. I mean…not much crazy rants, and you’re helping Lipton…you’ve change, buddy. And that’s good. Kinda proud of you.”

“Aaaw…shucks…you want to make an honest woman out of me, George? Because you make me fucking blush.But sorry, homes. I only interested with big tits and childbearing hips.” Ray gestures the tits and the hips in detail. “Unfortunately, you’re lack of that quality.”

George laugh for the first time today “You are one messed up redneck, Ray. Just like your Gramp.”

“That reminds me, George…If I go back to my time, and my Gramp back to this sexy bod” Ray pauses because George makes a gagging sound “Will you make sure he read his diary? It’s in the backpack.”

“Sure thing, Ray. Do you think your Gramp is somewhere in that big head of yours?”

“The hell if I know?! I’m not a regularly time travel and snatch my Gramps body. Erg…”

“Don’t you dare say ‘Ergo’, Ray! Or I swear to God I’ll butt your head with my rifle.”

“The fuck with the aggressiveness, dude?! I was in debate team, you asshole, so I know fancy words!! Fine!!If I’m not allowed to flaunt my educated vocabulary, I will use 2nd grade vocab when I’m talking to you. So may I repeat… I’m not a regularly time travel and snatch my Gramps body, thaaaaat’s fucking whyyy….I wrote in my Gramps diary. To make sure he knows what I did.”

George grins “Thoughtful aren’t ya. Wait...you’re in debate team?”

“Do you have to be that surprised?”

George grins. They sit in silence for several minutes when George talks again.

“Will you search for me, Ray? I mean…if you get back to 2003, will you find me?”

Shit!! Why George’s question feels like a goodbye?

“Fucking A, homes.”

“Huh?”

“A is for affirmative. It’s… uh…modern military slang.”

“I do really concern about the fate of English language in the future.”

“Says the man who doesn’t want to hear the word ‘Ergo’.”

“Touché…”

“I’ll find you guys. I promise. I’ll abuse Brad’s laptop and fucking Google for your address or harassthe staff in public record if I have to.”

“I have no idea about half of the thing you’ve said. But I do hope I will see you again…in assumption that I’m not becoming a senile old man in 2003.” The words ‘ _or if I’m not dead yet’_ was not said, but thickly implied.

“Gah…a man like you? You, Bill and Frank are stubborn enough to become senile. Nuh-uh…that’s ain’tgonna happen.” Ray says the last sentence with the sassy fingers.

“Thanks, Ray. Just in case I forget to tell you this in the future…um…what is it you usually said? Got my six? Yeah…that…I’m glad you got my six.”

Ray nods, fighting the lump in his throat “Ditto, homes. Let’s try to sleep, okay? ”

But the night is too fucking cold to sleep.

“Fuck this shit!! Let’s find Winters. Volunteering for recon patrol is so much better than freezing my balls off. Coming, George?”

“F-F-Fine…let me prepare my radio.”

George and Ray then walk toward Winter’s CP. They found Lipton and Speirsalready there. Lipton and Speirs are talking with Winters while Nixon reading some papers and sometimes sipping his Vat 69 straight from the bottle. Ray thinks Nixon takes the advantage of Col. Sink is not around.

“You want it on the rocks, Sir? We got plenty here.”

Nixon lifts his head and grins “No thank you, Ray. High quality whiskey, like my baby over here, is better served neat. You want some?”

“You’re sharing your Vat?” Winters lifts his eyebrows.

“Ray here understands liquors, Dick. I can’t talk about liquor with you, can’t I?”

“Thanks for the offering, Sir. But I prefer the most hideous pink cocktail with pineapple and umbrella on the side, and then drink it with a straw. Preferably while wearing a flower crown, grass skirt and coconut bra.”

Nixon snorts. Winters confused. Speirs’ lips twitches. Lipton grins and shakes his head. George mumbles something like “Can you be more queers.”

“Ahem…right…sorry, Sir. That was one scary image. Right…so…George and I are here to volunteer for recon patrol and gathered more accurate intelof the city. I’m not comfortable to go on an attack without knowing what’s up ahead.”

Winters smiles “Are you and Lipton have telepathy?”

Nixon gasps “Are you making a joke, Dick? Well…Congratulations, Ray. I think you are successful in corrupting our Battalion Commander.”

Winters snorts (everybody gasps) and then rolls his eyes (more gasps) “Oh, for crying out loud!! I’m not allowed to make jokes? Just…back to our business then. 1st Sergeant Lipton here already suggests the same thing, Sergeant Person. And I’m agree with both of you. But be carefull. You just observe.”

“Solid copy, Captain. Observe everythng, admire nothing.”

When Ray, Lipton and George leave the CP, they still can hear Nixon talks to Winters and Speirs.

“I’ve told you he will be an asset for Intel, Dick”

“I’m not sure I want to shot him between his eyes or to give him commendation.”

Winters chuckles “And you only know him for a few days, Lieutenant Speirs.”

* * *

 

The scout was proofed to be worthwhile since it gives the needed information about German’s strength. The fuckers still hold the city with their panzers and multiple array of heavy machinery. The most disturbing sight is the remains of burnt Shermans and American bodies, frozen and scattered all around the city. They have been left there since December 20. So it’s not a very pretty sight.

When they start the attack of Noville at dawn, Easy know where to attack and where they can take cover. Ray’s platoon is clearing up buildings while 2nd platoon are quickly spearheading into the center of Noville. 3rd platoon is behind them as reserve and clearing a building for set up a CP.

Ray is just finished cleared the fourth building when he sees George take cover behind a burnt Sherman. George’s is talking in his radio so he doesn’t see a Panzer coming towards him.

“GEORGE!! MOVE THE FUCK OUT!! GEORGE!!”

But he is too far.

The Panzer stopped and, swiveling its turret. It will put a shell into the burnt Shermans, most likely to prevent the American to use the still functioning Sherman guns.

And George is not aware of this.

Without thinking, Ray ran as fast as he can.

He doesn’t hear Foley shout at him.

He doesn’t care the Germans shooting at him.

He’s too focus to warns George to move from the Sherman.

“GEORGE!! MOVE OUT!! MOVE THE FUCK OUT!!”

George finally locked eyes with him. And thank goodness he quickly aware of the situation and run to the nearest wall for cover. Ray keeps running towards him.

They say that if you can’t hear a mortar, it means they’re close.

A mortar explodes just a few meters from Ray’s feet.

Ray’s flying. Everything is upside down.

It feels like he’s flying for hours until his back hits a wall and his body touches the ground again.

He can see George’s mouth shouts something. Probably Ray’s name. And he starts to run towards Ray’s limp body.

He can see Doc Roe runs and skidded next to him. His soft voice repeatedly says “You’re gonna be fine, Person. Stay with me. Stay with me, Ray.” While he start doing his healing work.

Ray starts to see black. But he can still hear George voice, shaking “Ray…Ray…Please, buddy. Stay alive. We’ll meet again. Stay alive, Ray.”

And then nothing.

* * *

 

Ray hears voices. They sound muffled at first, but gradually, they become clearer.

 _De ja vu._ Ray thinks.

And he feels hot. Like sunburned- hot.

And then he hears a voice that he didn’t hear for a long time.

“Doc, is he gonna be alright? Fuck!!” Brad sounds panic and concerned. It’s so Un-Iceman-ly

“I can’t really tell, Brad. That’s one fucking blow in his neck. He might have cervical fracture. I’ll put a collar just in case. He must cas-evac-ed immediately for X-Ray.”

Wait…hold up?? Brad and Doc Bryan??

Ray opens his eyes too fast; he’s got blinded from the sun.

“Whoa, Person. Take it easy, man. How are you feeling?”

The sun. The heat. The sand under his body. He’s in fucking Iraq!!

Ray wants to scream. After nearly one and a half years, after he repeatedly losing hope, after he saw his friends shredded in pieces…he finally back to buttfuck Iraq??!! Convenient!!

And how about George?! How about Easy?!

Are they real? Is it not just a limbo or some fuck like that?

_It’s real. George, Frank and Bill are real. Easy is real._

_Deep breath, Ray._

_Good. One. Two. Three._

_You can find out about them later. One thing at a time._

_Put on your mask. Adapt._

_You’ve done this before. Fucking adapt, Ray!! One fucking thing at a time._

_Hang tough..._

“’mkay, Doc. Not dizzy or anything. ”

“Do you feel any pain in the back of your neck?”

“Nope”

“Can you move your limbs?”

Ray moves his fingers, toes, then his legs and arms and then his neck. “I can move my dick too, Doc. Wanna see?”

Brad snorts “You have nine fucking lives, Ray.” Sounds relieved.

Good. Don’t make anyone worries. He’s Josh Ray Person. Motormouth extraordinaire. Ooze the charm, Person!

“Aaww…did Daddy Colbert worried about me? Mommy Person is fine, Daddy. So you can stop seeing Mistress Fick because this hot momma doesn’t like to share.”

“Yup. He’s fine.”

Shit!! That’s LT’s voice. What about doing some recon before publicly expressing domesticality, Ray?

“Uh…hi, Sir. Nice to meet you. Me love you long time.”

Thankfully, the LT grins at him and then leaves after he’s assured Ray is okay.

“I’ll put you in a collar, okay? Just in case…”

“No need, Doc. ‘mfine. Trust me.”

And Ray starts to get up.

Doc checks on him for another minute until he’s sure that Ray is okay and leaves him while mumbling “lucky motherfucker.”

Ray doesn’t feel lucky though. Honestly, he feels like a jackass, leaving Easy men behind.

“Walt, you drive!”

“No no no, Brad!! I’m fine. Just…you know…near dead experience and shit. I’ll drive. I’m fine.”

Brad’s not buying it.

“No, Ray! You sit on the back. Walt, you drive!” Brad’s back to his Iceman mode again.

They stay in the stadium that night and Ray stays away from everyone, although Brad repeatedly tried to talk to him. He drinks the booze they found in the stadium, but it only reminds him to Nixon and his Vat69. He finally laid himself in the bleacher.

He used to think that he will be relieved when he’s back to his time. But now, he will do anything to go back with his Easy men. He misses Easy already.

He misses George, Frank and Bill. His last talk with George is played repeatedly in his mind. Did they make it through the war?

He suddenly remembers the ring. He frantically reaches for his dog tag.

And it’s there. Christmas presents from George.

And it’s almost too hard to bear. His eyes start to blur and he’s choking back sobs.

So much for Hang Tough…


	10. Chapter 10

“Hey, where the fuck did you go? You haven't said two words since Baghdad.”

Ray shrugs “No more Ripped Fuel.” _Lie._ “Man, it seems no matter where we go as Marines, it's always some fucking shit-hole.” _Well, so as the Paratroopers actually, because Easy is always in fucking shit-hole since D-Day._

How the fuck he can explain he missed Easy. He desperately wants to connect to the internet and googling for Easy. Alas, he’s still in this clusterfuck that finally has official name; Operation Iraqi Freedom. _Freedom my ass._ Operation Iraqi Fucked-up is more appropriate.

Brad looks like he’s not 100% believe it, but before he can ask for more, Reporter walks up and saying good bye.

Then Poke comes, tossing a football “Hey, yo. We're gonna play some guys from Alpha. You guys up for that? Hoorah, motherfuckers.”

Maybe playing football can help him to forget Easy for a while. “Fuck it. I'll play.”

Brad smiles “Back among the living?”

Ray can’t return the smiles.

But playing football with pent-up frustration turns out is a bad idea. Somehow, in the middle of the game, Ray snapped and hit Rudy. Rudy get mad and pinned Ray. Ray got increasingly furious and starts yelling, his throat hurts.

And then crying. Fucking crying like a bitch.

For his fucked up life, thrown into two wars in one life time. For feeling like he betrayed Bravo by missing Easy every damn time. For George, Frank and Bill who he never had chance to say goodbye. For Winters, Nixon, Speirs, Lipton, Welsh and Buck who he never had chance to say that he admires their leadership, selflessness and bravery. For Hoobler, Dukeman, Muck, Penkala and other Easy men who shredded into pieces in France, Holland and Belgium. For loyal-as-fuck Easy men in general. And for his Gramp that he missed so much. And for feeling all the above that a badass Recon Marine shouldn’t feel.

Brad might say something afterward, but Ray ignores him, keeps walking to the Humvee and slumps himself in the driver seat.

He takes out his dog tag and removes the ring from the chain. He puts it in his ring finger. It’s slightly loose, thanks to one-meal-a-day diet plan. He cries harder.

* * *

 

He feels Brad is coming before he can see him. The Giant Viking is not as stealthy as he thinks he is. Or maybe it’s because Ray’s sense was heightened since Bastogne.

“Leave me the fuck alone, Brad.”

“Do you have something to say to your dearest pal Brad-Brad?”

Ray cannot help not to snorts “Fuck, Brad!! That’s so fucking wrong in so many levels.”

Brad shrugs “At least you talk.”

Who would have guessed? Maybe the Iceman does have a heart.

Ray sniffs and wipes his face “I need my time alone, Brad. Three weeks trapped in a Humvee like a fucking dysfunctional family with you guys does this kind of thing. And I need to…sufficiently securing my masculinity after…after that episode with Rudy.”

Brad looks at him incredulously “What the fuck? Securing your masculinity? Episode? Who the fuck are you and what have you done with my inbred, goat-fucker, scrotum-faced, bucktoothed RTO?”

When Ray keeps silent, Brad says a little bit softer “Look…Ray…You really have to unfuck yourself. Because I need my RTO back.”

Ray takes a deep breath. _Disguise your nervous breakdown in a series of jokes, Ray. The usuals._ “You know, Brad…you will make any English major co-ed orgasm with your choice of word when insulting people.” _Shit!! That was super lame._

“Ray....” Ooo...that frosty tone again.

Ray exhales “Okay…” He squares his shoulder and musters his courage “Okay…You got me at ‘I need my RTO back’. But you would never believe me.”

“Try me…and really? You have to quote Jerry Maguire?”

Ray sighs and takes that leap of faith. He’s done this with George, Frank and Bill. He just hopes that he will get the same acceptance from Brad.

* * *

 

“That…was…un-fucking-believable.”

Ray is not surprised. Apparently, people in the past are more trusting, less cynical and not much using logic. George, Frank and Bill trust him instantly. But Brad is the epitome of modern people. Skeptical…logical…cynical. Iceman indeed.

“Then how the fuck I found this ring in my dog tag? You know me since Afghanistan and you never saw this ring until today.“

“That’s…I don’t know.”

“And would I fucking lie to you about this?”

After a while, Brad finally says “You might be a messed-up, sister-fucking, Whiskey-Tango miscreant who allegedly inhale too much NASCAR exhaust fumes when you’re a kid, but…no…I don’t think your inbred brain cells are sophisticated enough to fabricate that kind of shit with so much detail. So it must be the truth.”

Leave it to Brad to show that he does believe by insulting people.

“Besides…you have this nightmare last night.”

“What?!”

“You’re trashing and mentioned names in your sleep. Names that’s not in our company…that now I know, they’re from Easy.”

“Shit…who else heard me?”

“Just me. Trombley and Walt were in their racks. Reporter was talking with Poke…So what do you want to do now?”

“Find Easy, as soon as I’m on libo...or…what’s left of them. And…I’ve decided I won’t reenlist.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Damn sure, Brad!! I had enough of buy-one-get-one war experience. I have full stock of fucking nightmare for a lifetime.” Ray puts his face on his hands.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw faces. Muck’s, Penkala’s, Hoobler’s. And then dead replacement babies, Bill’s and Toye’s mangled legs, George’s helpless face, Buck’s empty stares and even Frank’s wounded ass.

“That bad huh?”

“Yes, Brad. That bad. To see half of your company shredded in front of you…And then the civilian…That was…” Ray cannot finish his sentence.

“I know, Ray… A pilot doesn’t go down and look at the civilians his bombs have hit. Artillerymen don’t see the effects of what they do. But us…the guys on the ground do. We have to bring this home with us and live with it, although it will kill us inside.”

“Then how the hell you still want to join the Corps?”

“It’s my life, Ray. I was born for this. I can’t see my life outside the Corps.”

“Dress blues with a sword thorough and thorough, don’t you?”

Brad smiles “Ooo-fucking-rah…”

Ray sighs and puts his head on the steering wheel.

“You know…nightmares are early sign of PTSD, Ray. Casey Kasem is a certified combat stress instructor. You want to talk to him?”

“Are you shitting me, dude? I’d rather talk to Trombley and risked on having additional psychological trauma than playing shrink with Griego!!”

Brad grins and taps Ray’s shoulder “Ray, when you're right, you're right.”

They sit in silence for a while before Brad says “I’ll go with you.”

“What?” Ray cannot believe what he just heard.

“I’ll go with you. You’ll need someone to babysit you during your road trip finding Easy. Put you on a leash so you’re not embarrassing the human species. Maybe I can meet this Winters guy and see for myself the said angel-saint-ninja hybrid. It’ll be good for my warrior spirit. Or we can meet this Luz, Perconte and Guar…what’s his name again?”

“Guarnere…or Gonorrhea…But…” Ray fights the sudden constrict in his throat “I don’t know they’re still alive or not.” He blinks and his vision blurred. Shit…not again. This time travel bullshit makes him grow pussy.

“Ray…It’s gonna be okay. I’ve got your six.”

“Thanks, homes.” And after a while “You know…you may be a shitty friend, Bradley. But you’re MY BEST shitty friend.”

“Don’t start that homoerotic bullshit with me, Ray.” Brad warns.

“Solid copy, Sarge.”

* * *

 

Ray is true to his words. As soon as he got access to internet, he abused Brad’s laptop to find out about Easy. But what he found was make him more depressed; Brad forbid him find out about Easy until they back to Camp Pendleton or until Ray’s on libo. Ray’s depression and nightmares start to rub off the rest of Bravo. They’re used to loud-mouthed, no-filter-between-brain-and-mouth Ray Person. A quiet and withdrawn Ray Person was alarming, apparently.

The most devastating news was when Ray found out that George was passed away in 1998 in a work accident. Easy’s beloved clown died while working on a large industrial dryer, when it slipped off its supports and fell on George. Ray doesn’t have opportunity to properly say good-bye to him. George was the most sincere, kind and caring human being Ray ever knows. A behind-the-scenes man. George did things solely because they were the right things to do, and when he did someone a favor, he expected nothing in return. The Joly Old Saint Luz has gone. Their last conversation was a premonition, apparently.

Ray’s only consolation was that Frank and Bill are still alive. His first phone calls with them, after Ray arrived in Pendleton, were…emotional, so to speak. Their voices were definitely aging, but the fire is still in their voice. Ray has to keep the conversation short because he didn’t want to get caught weeping in the phone booth like a pussy. He quickly wrote down their address and promise to visit them as soon as he’s on libo, but not before an obligatory visit to his family.

* * *

 

And Ray feels guilty. He supposed to be happy meet his family again. His mom was crying when she picked him up in the airport. Ray hugs her but still not feeling ‘home’ yet. He stays quiet during the drive home. His mom feels his mood apparently. But she doesn’t say anything.

When they finally arrived at his mom’s house, her mom asks “Joshua, I’ve made you favorite. You want to eat it now? You looked so skinny, honey.”

There was a time when he feels at home when his mom called him Joshua. But not this time. He still feels…adrift.

“Thanks, Mom. ‘m fine. But…can we… talk for a minute?”

“Sure, honey.”

“Can you tell me about Gramp? I mean…about his war years.”

His mom doesn’t answer immediately. She stands up, enters her room and came out with a wooden box. She gives the box to Ray. It is about the size of a shoe box and has an engraving of a screaming eagle on the top of it. 101st Airborne Division insignia.

“Your Gramp gave it to me before he died. He said to give it to you, if you ask about his war years. And asks me to give you time to…to collect yourself.” His mom is crying again.

Ray feels like a jerk “Mom…I’m so sorry…but… I have to do something. I have to make this trip. For my sake and for Gramp’s.”

“Do what you have to do, Joshua. I don’t know your reason, but I know you’ll do the right thing. You’ve change so much. You’ve carry so much weight. I can see that. If this trip can give you some peace, then do it.”

Ray blinks back his tears and hugs his mom as tight as he can. Try to express his gratitude and relieve through it. And then he excuses himself to his room, to open his Gramp’s box.

The first thing he see when he opens the box is a black and white picture of Easy Company, taken outside their barrack in Aldbourne. Ray remembers this picture. It was taken after their first disastrous field exercise. The one that Sobel got tricked by George and Frank. It’s a picture of the original Toccoa men before they spend their life in various shitholes in Europe. Before D-Day, before replacement babies, before Bastogne. Before they changed into zombies.

And underneath the picture, is his Gramp’s diary. His heart beats faster when he opens it and finds his own writings. He reads his first entry in Aldbourne to his latest entry before they attack Foy. There’s a gap in the date after that and the next entry is his Gramp's writing.

* * *

 

March 28, 1945

Mourmelon, France

 

Dear Josh,

I’d like to call you Joshie, but George warns me that you would not like it. _*Ray cannot stop his smile when he read this. George kept his promise. Stick to his Gramp along the way*_

Finally I can write to you. When I woke up in the hospital in Liege, Belgium - I’ve been unconscious for three days, apparently - I have bits of memory about you. It’s like flashes of dreams or de ja vu. A nurse gave me this diary with George’s letter on it. He explained everything in the letter. He assumed that you will back to your time after you – or we? I must agree with you. This is confusing – got hit. And our Portuguese friend was right. Thank you, Josh, for being so thoughtful. Your writings helped me a lot in filling the gaps.

George visited me before he and Easy was moved again to Haguenau. Not long after that, I was moved to hospital in Mourmelon. Easy finally returned to Mourmelon on the end of February. I don’t remember exactly when, because I’m still in rehabilitation, but George said that it was 10 weeks since Easy leaving Mourmelon for Bastogne.

George and Frank – that midget went AWOL, as can be expected – always with me during my rehabilitation as much as they can. They told me about your...shenanigans. You three were fucking crazy!! A little bit jealous because I’m not fully the part of it.

It might be crazy to feel like this for an unborn grandson, but I’m extremely proud of you, Josh. From what I’ve heard, you have proofed yourself worthy as a leader, a soldier and most importantly, as a friend. You are a hero.

Well…I don’t know what else to write to my grandson when I myself still a 24 years old. I’m not even got a girlfriend, for Christ’s sake. So…that’s that. I’ll see you again in…30 years or so. Hope we will have a good time.

 

Your Gramp (Damn!! I feel old already),

 

Ray A. Person – the original

 

And Ray finds himself crying again.

* * *

 

“Stop fidgeting, you buck-toothed simpleton!! I’ve told you not to drink that third Red Bull. We’re about to meet a bunch of old man, not going for an ambush.”

“How dare you call them ‘old man’, Bradley!! They’re war heroes. In a fucking-A-legit kind of war, mind you. Not some fucked up invasion like us.”

“Yeah…yeah…I’ve read the book, Person. So what the fuck are you waiting for? Get out of this fucking car and meet them!!”

Ray still not moving from the driver seat. He’s been knocking his knees for the last five minutes. They are in the parking lot while Ray mustering his courage to meet Frank, Bill and Babe inside the Diner, here in South Philadelphia.

Frank insisted to meet them in South Philly, since he also wants to visit his grandson there. Ray originally wants to visit him in Joliet, Illinois (since the said midget is already 86 years old, for fuck’s sake) but Frank said “I still can beat you running up and down Currahee, asshole. You say one more thing about my age, and I will hit you with my cane. Yes…I have a perfectly good stainless steel cane. And don’t call me midget!!”

Bill and Babe, still joined in the hips apparently, gave Ray the address of their meeting points, a Diner with a 1940’s vibe. A perfect place for world war veterans like them.

Brad finally got fed up with Ray’s chicken shit, so he manhandled Ray and drags him to the Diner.

Once he opens the door, he hears shouts.

“Yowwwwwsa!” that’s Bill.

“Yoooooooo!" echoes Babe.

Frank grins his pearly white teeth. That vigorous tooth-brushing during the war pays him greatly.

And Bill stands up and rushes to him, a tornado in crutches, and gives him a crushing hug. Babe and Frank follow suit.

“Jesus, Ray!! You look exactly like your Gramp. I finally believe you, Bill.” Babe says

“Took you almost 60 years to believe me, you asshole.”

“Holy shit, Ray!! It’s like I just met you in Bastogne.”

Bill and Babe groaned. Bill hit Frank’s shin with his crutch. Babe punch Frank’s shoulder. Frank cringes. Old habits die hard.

“Thanks for mentionin’ that hell on earth, midget.” Bill says and shakes his head.

Ray laughs. He missed these guys so much and they don’t change a bit after 60 years. Brad’s jaw falls comically watching the exchange.

“Guys, meet Sergeant Brad Colbert. He’s Recon Marine too. Nick name Iceman. He is my former team leader. Brad, these are my Easy friends, Bill, Babe and Frank.”

Brad shakes their hands and muttering “Pleased to meet you, Sir.”

“Pah. Call us with our name. We’re not in military anymore. Let’s have a seat, will ya. I’m sure Frank’s neck will hurt talkin’ with your giant friend, Ray.”

They all laughing, except Frank that grumbles, and then sit on a booth. The waiter brings them a pot of coffee.

“So…you guys just got home from Iraq?” Babe asks.

“Yeah…just arrived last month.”

“I can’t believe when you called me, Ray. I thought my mind is fucking up, playing tricks on me.” Frank says.

“Situation normal then.” Bill cuts in.

Brad snorts on his coffee. Ha!! The Iceman loses his coolness.

“So how’s Iraq?” Bill asks before Frank can start to rant.

“Yeah well…the grunts get fucked up by the officer. The usual.”

“Except Fick.” Brad cuts in.

“Yeah…I know, Brad…you had a man-crush to our beloved Lieutenant Nathaniel Fick. Oh don’t give me that look, you Hebrew motherfucker! I’m not fucking scared. You’re not the boss of me anymore. So where were we? Oh right…Iraq…Our enemies were wearing pajamas. And then a lot of civilians got killed. So in conclusion, we liberated and fucked up the country in the same time. We don’t even sure there are WMD in Iraq. At least when we’re in Europe, I know what I was fighting for. But still…I have to see my men killed in front of me. Ergo, since I experienced this buy-one-get-one war experience bullshit, my collection of nightmares can make Stephen King pees in his pants. So…yeah…I’m kinda fucked up.”

After a while, Bill says “Ray… We’re soldiers. We follow orders. Back in the Europe, you were a great Sergeant, Ray. Do you think Foley can be a good Lieutenant if you’re not his Platoon Sergeant? Do you think Lipton and George alone can keep Easy’s morale high in Bastogne? Do you think the replacements can have a better team leader than you? And I’m sure Brad here also thinks that you’re a good Marine. Right, Brad?”

“Although I still can’t believe that this sorry excuse of human being can say a word with more than two syllables, let alone to become a Platoon Sergeant, I have to admit Ray is the best damn RTO in the business. As long as you can housetrained him and keep him away from your uglier daughters and your smaller livestock.” Brad answers deadpanned. The Aryan bastard.

Their laugh makes the other diners look at them.

“See that, Ray? Friendship. That’s all you need in this messed up world, along with booze and skirt, of course. You got Easy. You got your Marine friends. You’re an asshole, alright, but never a fucked up. End of story. Now you pay for this coffee and come to my house. Missus Guarnere is preparing dinner and all of you…have to stay at my house. No argue!! Well, except Babe. He got his own house and his own missus to be feared.”

* * *

 

Ray, Brad and Frank spend three days in The Guarnere’s house. Three days of talking and drinking beer until late and Frannie, Bill’s wife, has to drag her husband to sleep.

When they leave South Philly for Hershey, Pennsylvania, to visit Major Winters, it was Brad’s turn to become nervous. Apparently, his reading about the Major and Ray’s and Bill’s story about Winters has made Brad some kind of fangirl-ing about the esteemed Major.

‘Colbert comma Brad: The Fangirl-ing Behaviors’ are as follows:  
\- Stuttered and flushed when meet the Major,  
\- Asked for autographs on his copy of Ambrose’s Band of Brothers book, and  
\- Asked Ray to take a picture of him and Winters.

It was funny as hell!! But Brad threatened that he will kill Ray in 24 different ways if Ray told this to the other Recon Marine. So Ray kept his mouth shut.

To Brad’s huge disappointment, they can’t stay long in Hershey because they have to continue their trip to visit George’s grave in Rhode Island. So after a couple hours of transferring warrior spirit between the Retired Major and the Viking Sergeant, Ray and Brad are back in their car.

* * *

 

The sun is almost set when they finally arrived at the Rhode Island Veteran Cemetery in Exeter. It’s not difficult to find George’s gravestone, even though his gravestone is very simple compare to the other. It lays flat on the ground with simple engraving.

George Luz  
PFC US Army  
World War II  
Jun 17 1921 - Oct 15 1998  
Purple Heart

Ray can’t say a word because his throat feels heavy.

Brad says “This man is a quintessential war hero. And his grave only mentions one medal? But I thought Bill said that he was buried with all of his medals on his chest…that his family had no prior knowledge about them.”

Ray nods “Those are Easy men for you. When you call them heroes, their first answer will be ‘The guys that never came home are the heroes’. “

Brad sighs “And our retarded officers in Iraq got medals hard-on by calling in danger-close fire mission.”

Brad then continues “I think you’re somewhat lucky, Ray. You got the best of both worlds. You found brotherhood, both in Easy and Bravo.”

Ray sigh “I guess I do.”

Brad taps his shoulder “I’ll be waiting in the car. You take your time.” And then he walks back to their car.

Ray crouched and touch George’s gravestone.

He mutters “It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right. I hope you had the time of your life...Good-bye, buddy. I’ll see you on the other side.”

Ray turns around and walks to the car. He assured everything will be alright.

 

-FIN-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished the story. Thank you for all your kudos.   
> Reviews or corrections are loved  
> ^_^


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